Yet art hath less of instinct than of thought, All instinct though it seems; for as the flower Which blooms in solitude, by noiseless power, And skill divine, is wonderfully wrought, So from deep study art's high charm is caught; And as the sunny air, and dewy light, Are spun in heavenly looms, till blossoms, bright With honeyed wealth and sweetness, droop o'er-fraught, And our eyes breathe of beauty; so the bard Wrings from slow time inimitable grace; So wins immortal music her reward, E'en with a bee's industry; and we trace The sculptor's home-thoughts through his labors hard, Till beams, with deathless love, the chiseled face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE'S NEW PHILOSOPHY by PHILIP AYRES BOTHWELL: PART 5 by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE UNKNOWN SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT by RICHARD BARNFIELD LITANY TO SATAN by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE PSALM 38. DOMINE NE IN FURORE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE IN MEMORIAM by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |