I know 'tis vain ye mountains, and ye woods, To strive to match your wild, and wondrous hues, Ye rocks and lakes, and ever rolling floods, Gold-cinctur'd eve, or morn begemm'd with dews -- Yes, day by day & year by year Ive toild In the lone chamber, and the sunny field To match your beauty; but I have been foil'd: I cannot conquer; but I will not yield -- How oft have I, where spread the pictur'd scene Wrought on the canvas with fond, anxious care, Deem'd I had equalled Natures, forests green, Her lakes, her rocks, and e'en the ambient air. Vain unpious thought! such feverish fancies sweep Swift from the brain -- when Nature's landscapes break Upon the thrilling sense -- O I could weep Not that she is so beautiful; but I so weak -- O! for a power to snatch the living light From heaven, & darkness from some deep abyss, Made palpable: with skill to mingle right Their mystery of beauty! then mine would be bliss! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOMAN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LWONESOMENESS by WILLIAM BARNES THE PETRIFIED FERN by MARY LYDIA BOLLES BRANCH THE LITTLE PEACH by EUGENE FIELD LONE DOG by IRENE RUTHERFORD MCLEOD THE VANITY OF THE WORLD by FRANCIS QUARLES ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT by JONATHAN SWIFT EPISTLES ON THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF WOMEN: 2 by LUCY AIKEN |