AS once a Grecian maiden wove Her garland mid the summer bowers, There stood a youth, with eyes of love, To watch her while she wreathed the flowers. The youth was skilled in painting's art, But ne'er had studied woman's brow, Nor knew what magic hues the heart Can shed o'er Nature's charm, till now. CHORUS. Blest be Love, to whom we owe All that's fair and bright below. His hand had pictured many a rose, And sketched the rays that lit the brook; But what were these, or what were those, To woman's blush, to woman's look? "O, if such magic power there be, This, this," he cried, "is all my prayer. To paint that living light I see, And fix the soul that sparkles there!" His prayer as soon as breathed was heard; His pallet touched by Love grew warm, And painting saw her thus transferred From lifeless flowers to woman's form. Still, as from tint to tint he stole, The fair design shone out the more, And there was now a life, a soul, Where only colors glowed before. Then first carnation learned to speak, And lilies into life were brought; While, mantling on the maiden's cheek, Young roses kindled into thought: Then hyacinths their darkest dyes Upon the locks of beauty threw; And violets transformed to eyes, Inshrined a soul within their blue. CHORUS. Blest be Love, to whom we owe All that's bright and fair below; Song was cold and painting dim, Till song and painting learned from him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHRONICLE; A BALLAD by ABRAHAM COWLEY TERMINUS (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER by JOHN MILTON SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT: A LITANY IN TIME OF PLAGUE by THOMAS NASHE TELLING THE BEES (A COLONIAL CUSTOM) by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE |