Elson would had liked it

We astronomers are nomads, merchants, circus people, all the earth our tent. We are industrious. We breed enthusiasms, honour our responsibility to awe. But the universe has moved a long way off. Sometimes, I must confess, starlight seems too sharp, and like the moon I bend my face to the ground, to the small patch where each foot falls, before it falls, and I forget to ask questions, and only count things.