Sonnet Xvi. The Spectroscope.

ALL honor to that keen Promethean soul Who caught the prismic hues of Jove and Mars, And from the glances of the dædal stars, And from the fiery sun, the secret stole That all are parts of one primeval Whole, — One substance beaming through Creation's bars Consent and peace, amid the chemic wars Of gases and of atoms. Yonder roll The planets; yonder, baffling human thought, Suns, systems, all whose burning hearts are wooed To one confession — so hath Science caught Those eye-beams frank, whose speech cannot delude, — How of one stuff our mortal earth is wrought With stars in their divine infinitude.