Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare.
Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace,
And lay them prone upon the earth and cease
To ponder on themselves, the while they stare
At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere
In shapes of shifting lineage; let geese
Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release
From dusty bondage into luminous air.
O blinding hour, O holy, terrible day,
When first the shaft into his vision shone
Of light anatomized! Euclid alone
Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they
Who, though once only and then but far away,
Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.
– Edna St. Vincent Millay
A fine poem by Robert Okaji, about the solar wind amongst many other things:
Source: As Breath Defines Constriction
Deep in the time of eclipse
As birds bed down and dusk creeps up
We see the Suns halo and crown
Reaching out to her children
Light in the darkness
Sunlight scatters from escaping electrons
Bounces off minute dust particles
While stripped atoms glow as crown jewels
The act of seeing makes real
The fact of knowing sees beauty
The inner joyousness of the Universe
Up to the light
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Go on a starlit night,
stand on your head,
leave your feet dangling
outwards into space,
and let the starry
firmament you tread
be, for the moment,
your elected base.
Feel Earth’s colossal weight
of ice and granite,
of molten magma,
water, iron, and lead;
and briefly hold
this strangely solid planet
your strangely solid head.
– Piet Hein
Piet Hein is a scientist poet. And one of the great scientists of the 20th century.
I dreamed I saw a galaxy explode,
A massive spiral champion shorn of arms,
And eons passed in seconds through my brain;
The evolution of the cosmic wheel,
The whirling stellar city born of gas,
Had finished in a scattering of stars;
Where stars had moved in orbits, night remained.
I dreamed I saw the universe explode,
The clusters and the superclusters dash
In routed panic, as my eyes supposed,
From one another; yet between their paths,
Along their paths of flight, below, above,
Passed vehicles on journeys none foresee:
Imagination crumbled at the sight.
I dreamed I saw an ultracluster turn,
And watched the superclusters move on paths
Within this mightiest of structured forms
Of which the whole creation has been made;
I saw the stars burn out, the galaxies
Disperse and perish, till the turning form
Sped like a cinder through infinity.
The Kingdom of Number is all boundaries
Which may be beautiful and must be true;
To ask if it is big or small proclaims one
The sort of lover who should stick to faces.
Lovers of small numbers go benignly potty,
Believe all tales are thirteen chapters long,
Have animal doubles, carry pentagrams,
Are Millerites, Baconians, Flat-Earth-Men.
Lovers of big numbers go horridly mad,
Would have the Swiss abolished, all of us
Well purged, somatotyped, baptised, taught baseball:
They empty bars, spoil parties, run for Congress.
True, between faces almost any number
Might come in handy, and One is always real;
But which could any face call good, for calling
Infinity a number does not make it one.