Anne Bradstreet

Contemplations

Then higher on the glistering Sun I gaz’d,

Whose beams was shaded by the leafy Tree.

The more I look’d, the more I grew amaz’d

And softly said, what glory’s like to thee?

Soul of this world, this Universe’s Eye,

No wonder some made thee a Deity:

Had I not better known (alas) the same had I.