A better theme for Petrarch, or the bard
Who tuned his lyre for goddesses of old,
And beg thee hang it in thy banquet hall,
Not that it is sufficient in itself,
But that it is a labor of such love.
There let it hang, upon the frescoed wall
Just where some merry sunbeam deigns to slant,
Itself a sunbeam from the source of light,
That some may know, who pause and chance to look
Above the mould, and cobwebs at their feet,
That some poor fool has dreamed, and e'en aspired
Out of his boundless love that gave him strength,
To paint for man, that fairest work of God,
Set like a jewel in a grosser world
That better shows it forth, a perfect woman.
Who tuned his lyre for goddesses of old,
And beg thee hang it in thy banquet hall,
Not that it is sufficient in itself,
But that it is a labor of such love.
There let it hang, upon the frescoed wall
Just where some merry sunbeam deigns to slant,
Itself a sunbeam from the source of light,
That some may know, who pause and chance to look
Above the mould, and cobwebs at their feet,
That some poor fool has dreamed, and e'en aspired
Out of his boundless love that gave him strength,
To paint for man, that fairest work of God,
Set like a jewel in a grosser world
That better shows it forth, a perfect woman.
124
