The Meteor

By George Sterling

Out of the midnight of the north it came,
    Flung from the sapphire of infinity,
    And soundlessly was buried in the sea—
An orb without a portent or a name.
Only a drowsy helmsman saw its flame,
    A thread of light upon the western Signs—
    Drawn on the darkness where the Bull declines
And Aries trembles at the Hunter's aim.

From deep to deep it passed, with none to know
    What ashes burned upon the caverned skies,—
What altered dust that in the long ago,
        Upon a world now strewn on outer space,
    Gazed in the eyes of love with equal eyes
        Or, for a breath, on their Medusa's face.

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