I SAW a picture once by Angelo. "Unfinished," said the critic; "done in youth;" And that was all, no thought of praise, forsooth! He was informed, and doubtless it was so. And yet, I let an hour of dreaming go The way of all time, touched to tears and ruth, Passion and joy, the prick of conscience' tooth, Before that careworn Christ's divine, soft glow. The painter's yearning with an unsure hand Had moved me more than might his master days; He seemed to speak like one whose Mecca-land Is first beheld, though faint and far the ways; Who may not then his shaken voice command, Yet trembles forth a word of prayer and praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THANKSGIVING - 1937 by JOSIE CRAIG BERRY STOKLEWATH; OR, THE CUMBRIAN VILLAGE by SUSANNA BLAMIRE SLEEP NOT, DREAM NOT by EMILY JANE BRONTE CORNELIA'S REPLY by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER TO FLORENCE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |