The Sun Was Black With Judgment, And The Moon Blood: But Between I Saw A Man Stand, Saying, 'To Me At Least The Grass Is Green. 'There Was No Star That I Forgot To Fear With Love And Wonder. The Birds Have Loved Me'; But No Answer Came-- Only The Thunder. Once More The Man Stood, Saying, 'A Cottage Door, Wherethrough I Gazed That Instant As I Turned--Yea, I Am Vile; Yet My Eyes Blazed. 'For I Had Weighed The Mountains In A Balance, And The Skies In A Scale, I Come To Sell The Stars--Old Lamps For New-- Old Stars For Sale.' Then A Calm Voice Fell All The Thunder Through, A Tone Less Rough: 'Thou Hast Begun To Love One Of My Works Almost Enough.'