The People, Like Sand, and the Stars

They look. They cannot look. The land along the sand. 
When I, sitting, when I heard—tired and sick all day—like glass 
they cannot look. To any watch it keeps raising its hull, but, 
wherever the truth may be, out far they keep reflecting. 
A standing gull as long as the water, the wetter ground—
was that ever a bar? It may vary more. At the sea, look, 
at the sea in depth, and the people, a ship on land.

The lecture-room was ranged in the mystical moist night-
air it takes to pass and to come ashore. One way looked up. 
When he lectured with the proofs, the charts, and diagrams 
of the stars I wandered off to much applause. 
I am seen from time to time and all turn and look till rising 
and gliding out in perfect silence I add, divide, 
and measure them. The figures by themselves, 
they turn their backs, and are soon unaccountable. 
The columns heard the astronomer, the learned astronomer, 
and I became the people.