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The Painter's Home-Going.
IN MEMORIAM G. Q. P. TALBOT, OBIIT MAY 28TH, 1885.
God calls us when our eyes can bear the sight
Of all his lovelinesses—lest our mind
Should by the sudden beauty be smit blind—
To that new land, where neither sun gives light
Nor moon, but glowing love hath banished night
And sorrow with the night. ‘Look not behind,
But go: thine eyes are ready—thou shalt find
Power to behold, with joyance infinite.’
Of all his lovelinesses—lest our mind
Should by the sudden beauty be smit blind—
To that new land, where neither sun gives light
Nor moon, but glowing love hath banished night
And sorrow with the night. ‘Look not behind,
But go: thine eyes are ready—thou shalt find
Power to behold, with joyance infinite.’
Thereon, without a sigh the painter rose,
Yea, with a smile he laid his palette by;
Long had he looked beyond the sunset bars,
Had felt a pureness whiter than the snows,
Had heard the immortal music of the stars,
And knew that love for beauty could not die.
Yea, with a smile he laid his palette by;
Long had he looked beyond the sunset bars,
Had felt a pureness whiter than the snows,
Had heard the immortal music of the stars,
And knew that love for beauty could not die.
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