Art's Toil

What good is love when time has fled, What good is time if love has run? Once Venus flees her darling’s bed, She wilts away, her powers gone. Our lofty monuments fulfill Our needs far longer than the hands Which carve the wood with clever skill To quell the muses’ high demands. All beauty is for here and now, And yet the toil of art is worth Far more than passion can endow The strength and poise to bear it forth. Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com