 | The Poems of Sir William Watson |  |
ART'S RIDDLE
Come, friend,—her skein I also would unravel!
Art is not Nature lost in man's control,
But Nature's reminiscences of travel
Across the human soul.
Art is not Nature lost in man's control,
But Nature's reminiscences of travel
Across the human soul.
Or 'tis a tidal river, that, each day,
Ebbing and flowing under cliff and tree,
With mutual and eternal interplay
Takes and gives back the sea.
Ebbing and flowing under cliff and tree,
With mutual and eternal interplay
Takes and gives back the sea.
1915
| The Poems of Sir William Watson | |