Chapter LXIII

The Earth, it is a little ball
That sails thro’ ether clear,
And beautiful it moves, through all
The silent atmosphere;
Ten thousand, thousand, miles away
From any sister star,
It is a lonely thing, they say,
Yet shineth from afar;
To each remotest star it smiles,
And flieth all the time,
And all its airy way, beguiles,
With some celestial chime.