 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
72
UPON TITIAN.
When Titian brought his pictures to a close,“Faciebat” merely he beneath them wrote,
Thereby their incompleteness to denote;
No wonder that he to Art's summit rose,
And, from the topmost round, looked down on those
Who started with him for that goal remote!
An hundred years thereto did he devote,
As others days, and, sinking to repose,
Like some tall column towering 'gainst the sky,
Threw his vast shadow o'er a century!
And, at his setting, he was like the sun,
(His fame being equalled by his modesty)
As if he thought not of what he had done,
Nor of the darkness which on earth would lie!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |