Among the hills a meteorite br Lies huge; and moss has overgrown, br And wind and rain with touches light br Made soft, the contours of the stone. br br Thus easily can Earth digest br A cinder of sidereal fire, br And make her translunary guest br The native of an English shire. br br Nor is it strange these wanderers br Find in her lap their fitting place, br For every particle that's hers br Came at the first from outer space. br br All that is Earth has once been sky; br Down from the sun of old she came, br Or from some star that travelled by br Too close to his entangling flame. br br Hence, if belated drops yet fall br From heaven, on these her plastic power br Still works as once it worked on all br The glad rush of the golden shower.