These humble folk, which first his groping hand Portrayed, down-trodden, sad, have power to stir My soul as his, to make me understand The passion which gripped their young interpreter. These other canvasses almost outblaze Nature's own sunshine; vivid blues of sky And water, grasses green as springtime daze My eyes with color and electrify My senses. There a twisted cypress tree Against a seething sky on a storm-torn field Reflects the bitter inner agony Of stark defeat and loneliness unrepealed. How could he -- thwarted, loveless, early hurled Graveward -- bequeath such beauty to the world? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 10. THE DYING FALL by THOMAS CAMPION LESSER EPISTLES: TO A LADY ON HER PASSION FOR OLD CHINA by JOHN GAY LOVE: AN ELEGY by MARK AKENSIDE ALL HAIL TO THE CZAR! by ALFRED AUSTIN NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 30 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 7. FAREWELL TO WHITE-NIGHTS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |