The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars,

I know quite well.

That, for all they care, I can go to hell.

But on earth indifference is the least.

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn,

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am.

Of stars that do not give a damn,

I cannot, now I see them say

I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky,

And feel its total dark sublime,

Though this might take me a little time.