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UNEXPRESSED.
And lay thy head on my breast: Child, do not weep;In the calm, cold, purple depths There we shall sleep.
UNEXPRESSED.
WELLS within the soul of every ArtistMore than all his effort can express;And he knows the best remains unuttered;Sighing at what we call his success.Vainly he may strive; he dare not tell usAll the sacred mysteries of the skies:Vainly he may strive, the deepest beautyCannot be unveiled to mortal eyes.
And the more devoutly that he listens,And the holier message that is sent,Still the more his soul must struggle vainly,Bowed beneath a noble discontent.
No great Thinker ever lived and taught youAll the wonder that his soul received;No true Painter ever set on canvasAll the glorious vision he conceived.
No Musician ever held your spiritCharmed and bound in his melodious chains,But be sure he heard, and strove to render,Feeble echoes of celestial strains.
