WHERE suns chase suns in rhythmic dance, <br />Where seeds are springing from the dust, <br />Where mind sways mind with spirit-glance, <br />High court is held, and law is just. <br /> <br /> <br />No hill alone, a sovereign bar; <br />Through space the fiery sparks are whirled <br />That draw and cling, and shape a star, - <br />That burn and cool, and form a world <br /> <br /> <br />Whose hidden forces hear a voice <br />That leads them by a perfect plan: <br />'Obey,' it cries, 'with steadfast choice, <br />Law shall complete what law began. <br /> <br /> <br />'Refuse, - behold the broken arc, <br />The sky of all its stars despoiled; <br />The new germ smothered in the dark, <br />The snow-pure soul with sin assoiled.' <br /> <br /> <br />The voice still saith, 'While atoms weave <br />Both world and soul for utmost joy, <br />Who sins must suffer, - no reprieve; <br />The law that quickens must destroy.'<br /><br />Edith Wharton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aeropagus/
