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This ancient universe
New youth must now rehearse,
Its trembling blade of grass
Huge mountains should surpass.
The handful of poor clay
That did a glance display
All-viewing, in the brain
Must shape a cry of pain.
Our aged moon and sun
The course have never run;
Fresh stars we must pursue
To build the world anew.
Each image of delight
That dawns upon my sight
Is fair; yet fairer still
The image that I will.
God said, "The world so lies,
And say not otherwise";
Said Adam, "So I see;
But thus it ought to be!"