Poetry
and literature
that have an astronomical cant.
Robert Frost
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And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair,
And both that morning equally lay
I shall be telling this with a sigh
|
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help---for It
Rolls impotently on as you or I.
- 76th quatrain of
The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám