As, cleansed of Tiber's and Oblivion's slime, Glow Farnesina's vaults with shapes again That dreamed some exiled artist from his pain Back to his Athens and the Muse's clime, So these world-orphaned waifs of Want and Crime, Purged by Art's absolution from the stain Of the polluting city-flood, regain Ideal grace secure from taint of time. An Attic frieze you give, a pictured song; For as with words the poet paints, for you The happy pencil at its labor sings, Stealing his privilege, nor does him wrong, Beneath the false discovering the true, And Beauty's best in unregarded things. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR DECORATION DAY: 1898-1899 by RUPERT HUGHES ON THE SUN COMING OUT IN THE AFTERNOON by HENRY DAVID THOREAU THE BUOY-BELL by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER AN EPITAPH UPON THE DEATH OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE HYMNARY: 361. ST. JOHN BAPTIST by BEDE THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: A GHOST STORY by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |