Poems (Eddy)/Isle of Wight
SLE of beauty, thou art singing To my sense a sweet refrain; To my busy mem'ry bringing Scenes that I would see again.
ISLE OF WIGHT
On receiving a painting of the Isle.
SLE of beauty, thou art singing To my sense a sweet refrain; To my busy mem'ry bringing Scenes that I would see again. Chief, the charm of thy reflecting, Is the moral that it brings; Nature, with the mind connecting, Gives the artist's fancy wings.
Soul, sublime 'mid human debris, Paints the limner's work, I ween, Art and Science, all unweary, Lighting up this mortal dream.
Work ill-done within the misty Mine of human thoughts, we see Soon abandoned when the Master Crowns life's Cliff for such as we.
Students wise, he maketh now thus Those who fish in waters deep, When the buried Master hails us From the shores afar, complete.
Art hath bathed this isthmus-lordling In a beauty strong and meek As the rock, whose upward tending Points the plane of power to seek.
Isle of beauty, thou art teaching Lessons long and grand, tonight, To my heart that would be bleaching To thy whiteness, Cliff of Wight.