'TIS Beauty's Feast to scan thy shifting play Of shapes ethereal, and tender tints, And harmonies at Dawn and close of Day, And studies in bright colour, and faint hints Of curtained glory destined to diffuse Its glow o'er stormy earth in soft prismatic hues! Source of true inspiration and false dreams! Bank that dishonourest never Fancy's cheques! Fount of rare music whose perennial streams Enravish all that nether discords vex! Strange Panorama of weird forms and sights That Superstition darkly voted gods or sprites! I marvel not that in the World's raw youth Men did thee homage -- some perchance from Awe, As votaries within the shrine of Truth, Or subjects haply of a Throne whence Law, Backed by the Panoply Divine, had birth From their capricious will who ruled a hapless Earth. And some, tho' but a few, might rise in Love To the high Spring of mortal sustenance -- When Bounty streamed might turn meek eyes above -- When Beauty shed her best, uplift a glance Of thankful rapture to the home of Grace, And find a gaze parental in thy brooding face. And some, the many, vexed by craven fears, Propitiated oft thy changeful mood, Or saw in stormy forms the passion tears Of those who strove in high celestial feuds, In tempest heard their groans, in thunder-crash Their shout, and caught their fiery glance in lightning-flash. But this I marvel at, that in ripe age Man scorns thee -- now that he begins to don The virile toga, and his splendid heritage Of Truth and Virtue has been entered on -- Now when he grasps thy mission, knows thine aim That he neglects thee stands to his true loss and shame. For slighting thee, he shuns a Healer's ways; No dawn, noon, night, but thou in winning mode Hast wooed nor won our eye, like His kind gaze Bent ever on poor burdened ones, whose load Were lightened thus, but who neglect the bliss, Or cavil when they look -- I marvel much at this! At this -- that while Earth's myriads love their soil, The beasts that browse and muse with face downcast, Proud Man, a Sky-born spirit, seeks his toil And food so heedless of the ravishment Above around him -- hurrying to and fro Unnurtured by thy light and shade, and ebb and flow -- That he, aflame for Beauty, teazes Art For what thy bounty proffers without price -- That wandering through gallery, hall, mart, He seeks fresh combination, new device -- Spends on weak imitation, time, cost, thought, With thee the high Original unprized, unsought -- That he, athirst for Knowledge, seeks in books, Vent of our ignorance, what thou wilt tell To each meek student of thy lofty looks -- The secrets that in mortal nature dwell; Thy magic charming from the spirits' deep True shades, fair images, that perish else in sleep -- That wrought for Love Divine, he spares scant room In his capacious heart for love of thee -- Thee that, when human love forgets to bloom The gray horizon of our spirit's sea With matin flush or peaceful vesper flame, Dost plead in glow or smile perennial thy soft claim -- Thy claim to soothe, and cheer, and lift, and ply Love's art and ministry -- that slaves of Time, Winged by thy blandishments, we may outfly This carnal chain, and win our Native Clime And seek our sire, and -- if we must descend, Walk Earth suffused with Light, Eternal Grace shall lend. Ah! 'tis as tho' men passed a sparkling fount For muddy streams -- as if the Orbs, that shine To lighten all, were shunned by fools that count Dim lamps to yield a radiance more Divine -- 'Tis like the loss of Heaven for fleeting Earth, The choice of mortal being for the higher Birth. Prevent it every Force that bids supply Wait on demand! Prevent it all within That hails from Him Who counts His Throne the Sky! Forbid it Thou! nor charge us with the sin That what Thy Truth deems false, we reckon bliss, And what Thy Wisdom holds our need we blindly miss! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST HER EYES TWIN POOLS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO A MAN WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD by MARIANNE MOORE |