We passed heart-weary from the troubled house,
  Where much of care and much of strife had been,
  A jar of tongues upon a petty scene;
And now as from a long and tortured drouse,
The dark returned us to our purer vows:
  The open darkness, like a friendly palm,
  And the great night was round us with her calm:
We felt that large free wind upon our brows,
And suddenly above us saw revealed
  The holy round of heaven--all its rime
    Of suns and planets and its nebulous rust--
Sable and glittering like a mythic shield,
  Sown with the gold of giants and of time,
    The worlds and all their systems but as dust.

 ~ Archibald Lampman

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