When
I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When
the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When
I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure
them,
When
I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause
in the lecture-room,
How
soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till
rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In
the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d
up in perfect silence at the stars.
To
start the new year without being tired let´s do the comment to
Aldous Huxley, who in Science and Literature wrote abput this poem:
For
some people the contempaltion of scientific theories is an experience
hardly less golden than the experience of being in love or looking at
a sunset. Whitman wasn´t one of them. As a human being who enjoys
and suffers, facts and Astronomic hypothesis kept him cool; he
preferred silence and stars. In the case of a poet, this is a
compeltely legitimacy predilection
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