How countlessly they congregate <br />O'er our tumultuous snow, <br />Which flows in shapes as tall as trees <br />When wintry winds do blow!-- <br /> <br />As if with keenness for our fate, <br />Our faltering few steps on <br />To white rest, and a place of rest <br />Invisible at dawn,-- <br /> <br />And yet with neither love nor hate, <br />Those stars like some snow-white <br />Minerva's snow-white marble eyes <br />Without the gift of sight.<br /><br />Robert Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stars-2/
