Poems (Hardy)/The point of view

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THE POINT OF VIEW
THERE rose a star; heaven-circling ways it kept,As other stars, and shone to men as they,Or less, or more; but as I looked, its raysConcentered on the darkened truths of life,Upon my vision, never clear and whole,Full flashed with whitest light.
              "But therefore, then,I have not named this heavenly star the sunFor all men's lighting?" Nay, but yet to me,The visual angle makes that star the sun.
I march upon this parallel; I never sayHow shine the stars from that. I do not know.It is a truth of awe that I can useThe stars to find my bearings as I go;Of joy, that other eyes from other pointsFind theirs by whatso stars or sun they choose.
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