Earth, and yon vast firmament,

Crossing the endless void so eminent.

Crafted by hand, and by machine begot,

Under the gaze indifferent, cold, and taut.

Time doth race, like steeds in swift flight,

The waters shall cleanse the dust from our sight,

Though still doth flow the crimson of strife.

The coach must yield to the zephyr's life,

And fade from view at the edge of night.

Profound and distant, yet ever near,

I stand unmovable, devoid of fear,

Mankind must with hope their hearts uplift.