Art

The selfsame page echoes wordlessly like barren lord To write in characters of light, Oh! bucket headed bard Understand, art-like slumber must set-the soul free Beyond time's fabric walls, in boundless circles waterski Across the black besmeared realms of dreary night Where passion cleaves darkness with fanged light. Tread forth into the beauteous lustre of things And hark, how sweet the drunken nightingale sings Cheering languid Cynthia and the slow bursting bud Oh! come empty bosomed lad Let the primeval tongue of deft nature teach You how to fold forms into voluptuous speech. The sun through verdure fields has unrolled His sweet placid beam of burning gold And how gaily whispers the roaming scented wind Blowing voluptuous strains pleasant than sevenfold lutes combined Revealing to the dancing emerald leaves galore Divine secrets hoarded in mediaeval days devoid of law. When the throbbing heart of nature tunes the soul Grand refined wisdom is your to attain Which nor cognitive lore nor pedantic clouds of scroll Can ever shower upon the mortal train.