How dark against the sky
Loom the great hills! Over the cradled stream
They lean their dusky shadows lovingly,
Watching its happy dream.
The oil-well's little blaze
Gleams red and grand against the mountain's dark:
Yon star, seen through illimitable haze,
Is dwindled to a spark.
Far greater to my eye
The swimming lights of yonder fishing-boat
Than worlds that burn in night's immensity—
So huge, but so remote.
Ah, I have loved a star
That beckoned sweetly from its distant throne,
Forgetting nearer orbs that fairer are,
And shine for me alone.
Better the small and near
Than the grand distant with its mocking beams—
Better the lovelight in thine eyes, my dear,
Than all ambition's dreams.
Charles Quiet.