The mystery then, is this-
That this world,
Blue green globe, swells and
Shrinks with knowing-
It's true dimensions infinite
And inexhaustible.
The error is this-
That all is known, all charted and surveyed, pressed into two dimensions, and each page
Read and read again,
Leaving not a scrap of islet even
For the ambition of explorers
To aim at. False!
Whole continents sleep silent
Beyond the bounds of map
And chart and atlas-
O complacent cartography!
So much remains outside
The frame
Of your coloured pictures!

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