For every tiny town or place <br />God made the stars especially; <br />Babies look up with owlish face <br />And see them tangled in a tree; <br />You saw a moon from Sussex Downs, <br />A Sussex moon, untravelled still, <br />I saw a moon that was the town's, <br />The largest lamp on Campden Hill. <br /> <br />Yea; Heaven is everywhere at home <br />The big blue cap that always fits, <br />And so it is (be calm; they come <br />To goal at last, my wandering wits), <br />So is it with the heroic thing; <br />This shall not end for the world's end <br />And though the sullen engines swing, <br />Be you not much afraid, my friend. <br /> <br />This did not end by Nelson's urn <br />Where an immortal England sits-- <br />Nor where your tall young men in turn <br />Drank death like wine at Austerlitz. <br />And when the pedants bade us mark <br />What cold mechanic happenings <br />Must come; our souls said in the dark, <br />'Belike; but there are likelier things.' <br /> <br />Likelier across these flats afar <br />These sulky levels smooth and free <br />The drums shall crash a waltz of war <br />And Death shall dance with Liberty; <br />Likelier the barricades shall blare <br />Slaughter below and smoke above, <br />And death and hate and hell declare <br />That men have found a thing to love. <br /> <br />Far from your sunny uplands set <br />I saw the dream; the streets I trod <br />The lit straight streets shot out and met <br />The starry streets that point to God. <br />This legend of an epic hour <br />A child I dreamed, and dream it still, <br />Under the great grey water-tower <br />That strikes the stars on Campden Hill<br /><br />Gilbert Keith Chesterton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-belloc/
