"...the old man looked up At a black eyelet in the white of the Milky Way, and he thought with wonder: "There — or thereabout — Cloaked in thick darkness in his power's dust-cloud, There is the hub and heavy nucleus, the ringmaster. Of all this million-shining whirlwind of dancers, the stars of this end of heaven, it is strange, truly, That great and small, the atoms of grain of sand and the suns of planets, and all the galactic universes. Are organized on one pattern, the eternal roundabout, the heavy nucleus and whirling electrons the leashed, And panting runners going nowhere; frustrated flight, unrelieved of strain endless return – all- -all."