One in the Infinite

Roll on, and with thy rolling crust
That round thy poles thou twirlest,
Roll with thee, Earth, this grain of dust,
As through the Vast thou whirlest;
On, on through zones of dark and light
Still waft me, blind and reeling,
Around the sun, and with his flight
In wilder orbits wheeling.

Speed on through deeps without a shore,
This Atom with thee bearing,
Thyself a grain of dust — no more —
'Mid fume of systems flaring.
Ah, what am I to thirst for power,
Or pore on Nature's pages, —
Whirl'd onward, living for an hour,
And dead through endless ages?