O you brilliant satellite
That slowly shoots against the silver sky
You false pretender to the crown of night
Usurper of the stars, who flies so high
That he seems one of them, how do you shine?
What inner power glitters in your heart?
By what accident, or what design,
Was light made into a component part
Of your anatomy? And how do you
So dazzle and deceive my eyes that they
Imagine you're as natural to view
As moonshine at the falling end of day?
Or if you are a star, tell this to me:
When you watch satellites, what do you see?
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