From Time’s obscure beginning, the OlympiansHave, moved by pity, anger, sometimes mirth,Poured an abundant store of missiles downOn the resigned, defenceless sons of Earth.

Hailstones and chiding thunderclaps of Jove,Remote directives from the constellations:

Aye, the celestials have swooped down themselves,Grim bent on miracles or incarnations.

Earth and her offspring patiently endured,(Having no choice) and as the years rolled byIn trial and toil prepared their counterstroke –And now ’tis man who dares assault the sky.

Fear not, Immortals, we forgive your faults,And as we come to claim our promised placeAim only to repay the good you gaveAnd warm with human love the chill of space.

Thomas G. Bergin