The Onion Dome in Western London, Weather, and the Orthodoxy of Entropy
Subdued by rain and twilight and the gray
Of sky, the blue shape holds its own, unchanged
Despite these dull vicissitudes. The way
It holds its gilded stars up high, arranged
In formal pattern so unlike the sky
That clouds are blocking where each later star
Will soon come out in random sparks like die
Cast slackly by a loose Creator czar,
Protests against the dullness of this scene.
The heaven’s stars, closer to eternal
Than these the merely metal ones between
The earth and cloud screen, are more supernal,
And yet the five-point golden forms still glow
Despite that cosmic entropy, their foe.