My Virtual Reading Room

A tribute, by Sabotabby

For minoanmiss , in whose LJ I first saw this poem, several years ago. 

The Old Astronomer to his Pupil

Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then to now.

Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,
Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,
And remember men will scorn it, 'tis original and true,
And the obliquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,
What for us are all distractions of men's fellowship and wiles;
What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.

You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate.
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
You "have none but me," you murmur, and I "leave you quite alone"?

Well then, kiss me, -- since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
I can dimly comprehend it, -- that I might have been more kind,
Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.

I "have never failed in kindness"? No, we lived too high for strife,
Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!

There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
And remember, "Patience, Patience," is the watchword of a sage,
Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.

I have sown, like Tycho Brahe, that a greater man may reap;
But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleep
So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,
God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

(Sarah Willams)

Here's an illustration by Charlie Bowater


"When You Were the Stars"

A Response to Sarah Williams' "The Old Astronomer to His Pupil"

You told me not to fear the dark-
that stars were born from deepest night,
and even death, you softly said,
was just a turning into light.

Your voice would echo through the dusk,
so calm, so sure, so infinite-
as if the sky itself leaned in
to listen what your soul had meant.

I watched you trace Orion's belt,
your fingers dancing through the void,
as though you knew each burning thread
was something time could not destroy.

You spoke of moons like secret friends,
of Saturn's rings like wedding bands.
And I, beneath your quiet gaze, would fall asleep with open hands.

How could I not have loved you then-
you who loved the stars so well?
Your eyes held constellations whole,
your breath, the rhythm of a spell.

I never told you what I felt,
but sometimes when the night was clear,
I'd wish that I could be the sky, if only to have you here.

You taught me more than charts and names,
more than the orbit of the spheres.
You taught me how a soul can shine
beyond the weight of all its years.

And when your hands began to shake,
your voice still strong, though thin with time,
you whispered, "Look beyond the veil
there's more to see. There's more to climb."

You said, "Though I may set in shadow,
I'll rise again in perfect light.
Just trace the stars, and you will find me-
no soul is lost to endless night."

So now I sit where you once stood,
beneath the vast and breathless skies,
and every night I call your name
into the wind where starlight lies.

I still remember how you looked
the moment Venus broke the dawn-
your heart unchained, your eyes aglow,
like someone half-already gone.

But you are not gone. Not to me.
You're in the way the planets turn,
in every flame that breaks the dark,
in every star that dares to burn.

So love, my teacher, stargazer, friend
I'll carry on what you began.
I'll teach the light, I'll name the dark,
I'll map the soul as best I can.

And when my own dusk starts to fall,
when breath grows short and nights grow cold,
I'll look once more toward that great sky
and follow where you went, so bold.

For if your soul has crossed that edge
into the place where wonders are,
then death is but the closing eye-
and love becomes the nearest star.

(Robin Warman, FB page Judgements of Conscience)

(cross-posting to greatpoetry )