I found a poem by Lewis in an old Science Fiction short story magazine. Does anyone know if it was ever published elsewhere? The poem is about the lack of good science fiction writing; how it's just the same old stories rehashed, just in outer space. I like it because he gives a wonderful description of sehnsucht that he finds missing in modern sci-fi stories.
AN EXPOSTULATION
(Against too many writers of science fiction)
by C.S. Lewis
Why did you lure us on like this,
Light year on light year, through the abyss,
Building (as though we cared for size!)
Empires that cover galaxies,
If at the journey's end we find
The same old stuff we left behind,
Well-worn Tellurian stories of
Crooks, spies, conspirators, or love,
Whose setting might as well have been
The Bronx, Montmartre, or Bethnel Green?
Why should I leave this green-floored cell,
Roofed with blue air, in which we dwell,
Unless, outside its guarded gates,
Long, long desired, the Unearthly waits,
Strangeness that moves us more than fear,
Beauty that stabs with tingling spear,
Or Wonder, laying on ones heart
That finger-tip at which we start
As if some thought too swift and shy
For reason's grasp had just gone by?