Starry sky in March, seen from
Isaac Newton’s room in Trinity
The stars come out, one by one,
as if they had always been there.
Inexhaustibly the quad’s fountain plashes.
Dew falls in the soft grass,
until each drop is a telescope.
Joy over all that moves in the spring night,
wind from distant fields, straight through
this great clock where we reside
for some more years of time.