If Hamlet were bounded by his nut-shell,
He would not mind the sky.
His selfishness could continue, undisturbed.
Unchallenged by the vastness that is other.
It is that mere fact of space without border,
Universe without end,
Galaxies without number --
That awes the few that think of it.
And those who measure it,
Must not speak of it.
Least they disturb the sanity of a knowable world,
And ruffle finite minds,
And disprove the religion of inches, pounds, and days.
But you, humble Hubble,
Have loved the stars for what they said,
Rather than for what we wanted them to say.
By great and anxious labor,
I were to make time be full;
Would I be richer for it?
Patience is this ride’s
Richest lesson.
