The gods looked down upon the worlds of space,
The multitudinous worlds that to their will
Move circling, cycling, each, in rhythmic time,
One pulse the less a Universe in wreck,
The gods looked down-nor smiled- they do not smile,
Nor wept-they do not weep. Immutable,
Unto his Star appointed, each must hold
And answer to the One God, over all.

But lo! whence come these ceaseless agonies-
(Wherethro', perhaps, a sweet child treble breaks,
A thread of silver in a sable pall)
From what far Sphere the cursings, dread, despair,
The strife, blasphemies ‘gainst gods and men,
And pleadings to the gods-that will not know
Its own the power to answer and to right-
The help within before the help without-
A World in travail that must travail still.

And He, the One Omnipotent, Supreme,
Throbbing His life-pulse thro' the Universe,
Infinite wisdom, pity infinite: -
‘These puny atoms! What know they of pain? '