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The Artist's Search for Beauty.
Wended his way, to study works of art.
And there, within the Tuscan capital,
Enriched with noblest, rarest work of man,
What forms and shapes of loveliness he saw
In grand cathedral, Brunelleschi's Dome,
And Angelo's embodiments divine,
Ghiberti's wondrous "Gates of Paradise,"
And Santa Croce, where, with reverent awe,
He read the names of all the honored dead.
Then ardent longing kindled all his soul
To shrine some thought within a sculptured form,
To fasten in Carrara block some shape
Of haunting beauty, effluence divine
Of all his life and thought, dream of his dreams,
That should remain while generations passed,
And shed a halo on Francesco's name.
Then deep in mythologic lore he plunged,
And stored his mind with rarest poetry,
And toiled for years with marble and with clay,
Till, in the fresh meridian of his life,
Renown and honor Florence gave to him.
Then married he the gentle Angela,
Fair girl, with eyes like Parma violets,
And loved the tender beauty in her face.
And there, within the Tuscan capital,
Enriched with noblest, rarest work of man,
What forms and shapes of loveliness he saw
In grand cathedral, Brunelleschi's Dome,
And Angelo's embodiments divine,
Ghiberti's wondrous "Gates of Paradise,"
And Santa Croce, where, with reverent awe,
He read the names of all the honored dead.
Then ardent longing kindled all his soul
To shrine some thought within a sculptured form,
To fasten in Carrara block some shape
Of haunting beauty, effluence divine
Of all his life and thought, dream of his dreams,
That should remain while generations passed,
And shed a halo on Francesco's name.
Then deep in mythologic lore he plunged,
And stored his mind with rarest poetry,
And toiled for years with marble and with clay,
Till, in the fresh meridian of his life,
Renown and honor Florence gave to him.
Then married he the gentle Angela,
Fair girl, with eyes like Parma violets,
And loved the tender beauty in her face.
