Some day an astronaut will stand on Mars and look back at Earth. As Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote Venus, Hesper, Were we native to that splendour or in Mars We would see the globe we groan in, fairest of their evening stars Could we dream of wars and carnage, craft and madness lust and spite Roaring London, raving Paris, in that peaceful point of light? Would we not, when gazing heavenward, at a star so silver-fair Yearn, and clasp the hands, and murmur: Would to God that we were there? But what exactly will one see from Mars?
