 | Voices and visions |  |
7
NATURE TO ART
Painter, beware lest thou too dearly prize
All variant blame or cheer from clique or clan.
Below the intense blue blaze of tropic skies,
In valley and dell untrod by mortal man,
For centuries do my giant fern-plumes tower,
My bristling cacti break in glorious flower,
Or yet my lissome orchids throng to raise
The delicate rainbow splendours of their sprays.
All variant blame or cheer from clique or clan.
Below the intense blue blaze of tropic skies,
In valley and dell untrod by mortal man,
For centuries do my giant fern-plumes tower,
My bristling cacti break in glorious flower,
Or yet my lissome orchids throng to raise
The delicate rainbow splendours of their sprays.
Sculptor, be warned ere thou too precious rate
Censure or eulogy. ... Thou dost behold
How carelessly in heaven I lift the great
Palatial purples of my sunsets—mould
The snows of my proud mountain-summits—curl
To airier symmetries the plastic pearl
Of my pale dawns—or hew, year after year,
With silver-chiselling waves my cliffs austere.
Censure or eulogy. ... Thou dost behold
How carelessly in heaven I lift the great
Palatial purples of my sunsets—mould
The snows of my proud mountain-summits—curl
To airier symmetries the plastic pearl
Of my pale dawns—or hew, year after year,
With silver-chiselling waves my cliffs austere.
Master of music, let thine own soul make
Its choicest audience. ... Do I reck who heeds
Melodious and delirious winds that wake
Lyres in my tree-tops, lutes among my reeds?
Or if alone the meek brute grazing herds
Hark to the blithe arpeggios of my birds?
Or if blank sands and crags alone may hear
The orchestral ocean I sublimely rear?
Its choicest audience. ... Do I reck who heeds
Melodious and delirious winds that wake
Lyres in my tree-tops, lutes among my reeds?
8
Hark to the blithe arpeggios of my birds?
Or if blank sands and crags alone may hear
The orchestral ocean I sublimely rear?
Thee, last yet loftiest, Poet, I would remind
That ever in thine own large passionate heart
Thou shalt for thine own song the encomiums find
Worthier as they are wiser. ... I, apart
From all men, mantle my enormous nights
In silence, yet their labyrinthine lights
Thrill deeply with grand strains no discord mars,—
The rhythm and cadence of my choric stars.
That ever in thine own large passionate heart
Thou shalt for thine own song the encomiums find
Worthier as they are wiser. ... I, apart
From all men, mantle my enormous nights
In silence, yet their labyrinthine lights
Thrill deeply with grand strains no discord mars,—
The rhythm and cadence of my choric stars.
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