After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color and bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn't it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked - as I am surprisingly often - why I bother to get up in the mornings. To put it the other way round, isn't it sad to go to your grave without ever wondering why you were born? Who, with such a though, would not spring from bed, eager to resume discovering the world and rejoicing to be part of it? Richard Dawkins

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POEMS O Where Are You Going? - W.H. Auden The Beating Heart, the Naked Soul, and a Friday The True Pianist - Juliet Pang Ode on Solitude - Alexander Pope Auguries of Innocence - William Blake Invictus - William Ernest Henley Ode - Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy All in a Golden Afternoon - C.S. Lewis The Old Astronomer to His Pupil - Sarah Williams The Two Trees - William Butler Yeats The More Loving One - W.H. Auden The Lady of Shalott - Alfred, Lord Tennyson The Star - Ann and Jane Taylor