Unlike most who gaze at stars He stared not through rosehip mist But instead spent one night Standing Atlas, dreaming of a burden lifting Telescope raised in a silent toast Like a beacon lit, lens aflame Such wide-eyed squint as Venus passed In prism, caught within its round glass eye He hoped to take that thin gold ring Through which he now looks Placing diamond in the band With ruby glitter on its right But his hand fell before they joined As Venus left - a hammer's arc Could the mist, a flowing turn of white Seem by dawn to him avail? Kneeling, no A cockerel early risen, tense Brings the news that night has gone And once again It cries An astronomer will die at dawn