by Thomas Traherne

The Thoughts of Men appear
Freely to mov within a Sphere
Of endless Reach; and run,
Tho in the Soul, beyond the Sun.
The Ground on which they acted be
Is unobserv'd Infinity.

Traversing throu the Sky,
Tho here, beyond it far they fly:
Abiding in the Mind
An endless Liberty they find:
Throu-out all Spaces can extend,
Nor ever meet of know an End.

They, in their native Sphere,
At boundless Distances appear:
Eternity can measure;
Its no Beginning see with Pleasure.
Thus in the Mind an endless Space
Doth nat'rally display its face.

Wherein becaus we no
Object distinctly find or know;
We sundry Things invent,
That may our Fancy giv content;
See Points of Space beyond the Sky,
And in those Points see Creatures ly.

Spy Fishes in the Seas,
Conceit them swimming there with Eas;
The Dolphins and the Whales,
Their very Finns, their very Scales,
As there within the briny Deep
Their Tails the flowing Waters sweep.

Can see the very Skies,
As if the same were in our Eys;
The Sun, tho in the Night,
As if it mov'd within our Sight;
One Space beyond another still
Discovered; think while ye will.

Which, tho we don't descry,
(Much like by night an useless Ey,
Not shaded with a Lid,
But in a darksom Dungeon hid)
At last shall in a glorious Day
Be made its Objects to display

And then shall Ages be
Within its wide Eternity;
All Kingdoms stand,
Howe're remote, yet nigh at hand;
The Skies, and what beyond them ly,
Exposed unto evry Ey.

Nor shall we then invent
Nor alter Things; but with content
All in their places see,
As doth the Glorious Deity;
Within the Scope of whose Great Mind,
We all in their tru Nature find.

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