Sonnet XVIII

Indefinite space, which, by co-substance night,

In one black mystery two void mysteries blends;

The stray stars, whose innumerable

Repeats one mystery till conjecture ends;

The stream of time, known by birth-bursting bubbles;

The gulf of silence, empty even of nought;

Thought's high-walled maze, which the outed owner

Because the string's lost and the plan forgot:

When I think on this and that here I stand,

The thinker of these thoughts, emptily wise,

Holding up to my thinking my

And looking at it with thought-alien eyes,  The prayer of my wonder looketh past  The universal darkness lone and vast.