Abate their hunger but eschew the hooks;
Go where the flowers, by fairy weavers spun,
Pour out their grateful incense to the Sun;
Go where the deer in secret nooks disport
And Nature, clad in verdure, holds her Court;
Go where—nay, stay! Yonder the artist stands,
With brush and prismy palette in her hands,
Before her easel, where the canvas seems
A masterpiece in wondrous color schemes.
What artistry! What fascinating views