. . . this earth a spot, a grain,
An atom, with the firmament compared
And all her numbered stars, that seem to roll
Spaces incomprehensible (for such
Their distance argues and their swift return
Diurnal) merely to officiate light
Round this opacious earth, this punctual spot,
One day and night; in all their vast survey
Useless besides, reasoning I oft admire,
How nature, wise and frugal could commit
Such disproportions, with superflous hand
. . .
................................................Milton