Flatearthers and Other Dreams

I looked to the sky one night
And saw a falling star.
I ran to the Earth’s near Edge,
It wasn’t quite so far.

There I stopped and looked again
And much to my surprise,
All the stars of all the night
Were falling from the skies.

I called out to friends of mine,
Who lived quite near the Edge,
In a quaint English cottage,
With a quaint English hedge.

They looked about, shook their heads
And mumbled words of woe,
“Falling stars! So near the Edge!
Oh, whither shall we go?”

I laughed at them a soft laugh
And winked a single eye.
“They fall into the Edge Mists,”
I told them by the by.

They laughed aloud with fair joy,
Disclaimed their quailing heart,
When a star fell at our feet
And gave us quite a start.

They shied away in horror;
I bent to lend a hand.
“Thank you sir,” it said aloud,
“I’m lost in this strange land.” 

My friends, nearby, ran away,
Distinctly quite distraught,
I shook my head mournfully
And pitied them a lot.

“So where could you be going?”
I asked the fallen star.
“Is it,” I begged, “near at hand?"
And, “Have you traveled far?”

“I’m destined for the Edge Mists,”
He said so plaintively.
“I missed my mark by mere feet
As, surely, you can see.”

I nodded a clever nod
And struck a thoughtful pose,
“But what is in the Edge Mists
That vies with star shine shows?”

Here the fallen star blushed well,
A deeper shade of red,
“Just plain curiosity,”
Was everything he said.

I brought forth my catapult
And shot him in the sky.
He flashed me a warm farewell
I nodded my good-bye.

As he slipped into the mist
It came as no surprise
That, all the stars of the night,
Were vacant from the skies.