Torrent of light and river of the air, <br />Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen <br />Like gold and silver sands in some ravine <br />Where mountain streams have left their channels bare! <br />The Spaniard sees in thee the pathway, where <br />His patron saint descended in the sheen <br />Of his celestial armor, on serene <br />And quiet nights, when all the heavens were fair. <br />Not this I see, nor yet the ancient fable <br />Of Phaeton's wild course, that scorched the skies <br />Where'er the hoofs of his hot coursers trod; <br />But the white drift of worlds o'er chasms of sable, <br />The star-dust that is whirled aloft and flies <br />From the invisible chariot-wheels of God.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-galaxy/
