Telescope
Your starry white flower garden
A spectacle to behold—a blaze,
Now appears somewhat obscure
Is it the sight or my gaze?
Has the light already been spent?
Because now, through a telescope, I see
The stars which have turned distant,
The lanes of my staple tour that used to be glee.
Still, through the darkest alleys, I hover,
To find the light long forgone,
Whence a dismal desire provokes wonders to deliver,
And set upon my Odyssey, I am begone,
To rekindle the moon, now eclipsed,
Rough it might be, as the Tuscans witnessed.
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