A Treasure House
Upon this Earth I have a treasure house of just one room.
It's very small, this room of mine;
The roof rolls off for splendors of the night,
The walls are low and not too far apart,
And in the center stands a dream fulfilled;
An object made of glass and brass and other metal things
That move and turn about to rendezvous with realms beyond our own.
And here is found a Sanctuary.
Now move this larger roving eye to seek
For other masterworks in depth of space;
For there the greatness of our Universe is found,
And in the seeking we ourselves are great.
So I will choose these quite ways of night,
This pleasure through the years;
For here no thought of war and strife intrudes
To block these roads so distant
We must see with mind and not with sight.
And sensing this, man's petty creeds are laid aside,
And life's sojourn made more complete.
By Paul W. Davis, New York.
Sky & Telescope, February 1967.
