Isle Of Wight
Written on receiving a painting of the Isle
Isle of beauty, thou art singing [20]
To my sense a sweet refrain;
To my busy mem'ry bringing
Scenes that I would see again.
Chief, the charm of thy reflecting, [1]
Is the moral that it brings;
Nature, with the mind connecting,
Gives the artist's fancy wings.
Soul, sublime 'mid human débris, [5]
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 [10]
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 [15]
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. [20]
Isle of beauty, thou art teaching
Lessons long and grand, to-night,
To my heart that would be bleaching
To thy whiteness, Cliff of Wight.