Edmund Kemper Broadus

(To the New Telescope on Mt. Wilson)

OF old sat one at Delphi brooding o’er

The fretful earth;—ironically wise,

Veiling her prescience in dark replies,

She shaped the fates of men with mystic lore.

The oracle is silent now. No more

Fate parts the cloud that round omniscience lies.

But thou, O Seer, dost tease our wild surmise

With portents passing all the wealth of yore.

For thou shalt spell the very thoughts of God!

Before thy boundless vision, world on world

Shall multiply in glit’ring sequence far;

And all the little ways which men have trod

Shall be as nothing by His star-dust whirled

Into the making of a single star.