 | Poems of problems |  |
156
THE TECHNIQUE OF IMMORTALITY
There hangs a picture on my wall;
Three leafless trees; dead woods beyond;
Brown grasses and a marshy pond;
And over all
An amber sunset of late fall.
Three leafless trees; dead woods beyond;
Brown grasses and a marshy pond;
And over all
An amber sunset of late fall.
Too frail the artist heart to cope
With all the stern demands of fame.
He passed before he won a name,
Or gained his hope,
To realms where dreams have larger scope.
With all the stern demands of fame.
He passed before he won a name,
Or gained his hope,
To realms where dreams have larger scope.
Yet in the modest little square
Of canvas, that I daily see
He left a legacy to me
Of something rare;
For more than what is painted there.
Of canvas, that I daily see
He left a legacy to me
Of something rare;
For more than what is painted there.
For tree and grass and sunset sky
Hold subtler qualities than art;
It is the painter's pulsing heart
That seems to cry,
“I loved these things—they cannot die.”
Hold subtler qualities than art;
It is the painter's pulsing heart
157
“I loved these things—they cannot die.”
And so they live to stir and move
Each gazer's soul; because they speak
Of something mightier than technique.
They live to prove
The immortality of love.
Each gazer's soul; because they speak
Of something mightier than technique.
They live to prove
The immortality of love.
They speak this message day by day;
“Love, love your work, or small or great;
Love, love, and leave the rest to fate.
For love will stay
When all things else have passed away.”
“Love, love your work, or small or great;
Love, love, and leave the rest to fate.
For love will stay
When all things else have passed away.”
| Poems of problems | |