PAINTING PANSY
Painting with all its technicalities, difficulties, and peculiar ends, is nothing but a noble and expressive language, invaluable as the vehicle of thought, but by itself nothing.
Ruskin—True and Beautiful. Painting. Introduction.
If it is the love of that which your work represents—if, being a landscape painter, it is love of
hills and trees that moves you-—if, being a figure
painter, it is love of human beauty, and human
soul that moves you—if, being a flower or animal painter, it is love, and wonder, and delight
in petal and in limb that move you, then the
Spirit is upon you, and the earth is yours, and
the fullness thereof.
Ruskin—The Two Paths. Lect. I.
Look here, upon this picture, and on this.
Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 53. •
t What demi-god
Hath come so near creation?
Merchant of Venice. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 116.
a I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
Timon of Athens. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 36.
The painting is almost the natural man :
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside; pencill'd figures are
Ev'n such as they give out.
Timon of Athens. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 157.
Wrought he not well that painted it?
He wrought better that made the painter; and
yet he's but a filthy piece of work.
Timon of Athens. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 200.
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{{Hoyt quote
| num = 5
| text = With hue like that when some great painter dips
His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and
eclipse.
Shelley—The Revolt of Islam. Canto V. St.
23.
There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a
handless painter. The essence of an artist is
that he should be articulate.
Swinburne—Essays and Studies. Matthew
Arnold's New Poems.
But who can paint
Like nature? Can Imagination boast,
Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
Thomson—Seasons. Spring. L. 465.
They dropped into the. yolk of an egg the milk
that flows from the leaf of a young fig-tree, with
which, instead of water, gum or gumdragant,
they mixed their last layer of colours.
Walpole—Anecdotes of Painting. Vol.1. Ch.
II.
I would I were a painter, for the sake
Of a sweet picture, and of her who led,
A fitting guide, with reverential tread,
Into that mountain mystery.
Whittier—Mountain Pictures. No. 2.
PALM
Palmacew
As the palm-tree standeth so straight and so tall,
The more the hail beats, and the more the rains
fall.
| author = Longfellow
| work = Annie of Tkaraw. Trans, from
the German of Simon Dach. L. 11.
First the high palme-trees, with braunches faire,
Out of the lowly vallies did arise,
And high shoote up their heads into the skyes.
Spenser—Virgil's Gnat. L. 191.
Next to thee, O fair gazelle,
O Beddowee girl, beloved so well;
Next to the fearless Nedjidee,
Whose fleetness shall bear me again to thee;
Next to ye both I love the Palm,
With his leaves of beauty, his fruit of balm;
Next to ye both I love the Tree
Whose fluttering shadow wraps us three
With love, and silence, and mystery!
Batabd Taylor—The Arab to the Palm.
Of threads of palm was the carpet spun
Whereon he kneels when the day is done,
And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one!
To him the palrn is a gift divine,
Wherein all uses of man combine,—
House and raiment and food and wine!
And, in the hour of his great release,
His need of the palms shall only cease
With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace.
"Allah il Allah!" he sings his psalm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm;
"Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!"
Whittier—The Palm-Tree.
What does the good ship bear so well?
The cocoa-nut with its stony shell.
And the milky sap of its inner cell.
Whittier—The Palm-Tree.
PANSY
Viola Tricolor
17
Pansies for ladies all—(I wis
That none who wear such brooches miss
A jewel in the mirror).
E. B. Browning—A Flower in a Letter.
{{Hoyt quote
| num = | text = <poem>Pansies? You praise the ones that grow today
Here in the garden; had you seen the place When Sutherland was living! Here they grew, From blue to deeper blue, in midst of each A golden dazzle like a glimmering star, Each broader, bigger than a silver crown; While here the weaver sat, his labor done, Watching his azure pets and rearing them, Until they seem'd to know his step and touch, And stir beneath his smile like living things: The very sunshine loved them, and would lie Here happy, coming early, lingering late, Because they were so fair. Robert Buchanan—Hugh Sutherland's Pan-
