All I know / Of a certain star / Is, it can throw / (Like the angled spar) / Now a dart of red, / Now a dart of blue; / Till my friends have said / They would fain see, too, / My star that dartles the red and the blue! / Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled: / They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it. / What matter to me if their star is a world? / Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.
—Robert Browning (1812-89).