I imagine Mr. Bradley
Making measurements night by night,
Seeking out stellar parallax,
The aberration of the light
Discovered, quite to his surprise,
Instead. Instead, that's what it's like
In this corner of a cosmos,
Always the unexpected sight,
Neither magical nor dreamed of,
Only wholly not what the bright
Ideas we had promised we'd find,
Only what we must like, despite.
We've got no choice but to take fright
In constant strangeness, take delight.