Yet art hath less of instinct than of thought, All instinct though it seems; for as the flower Which blooms in solitude, by noiseless power, And skill divine, is wonderfully wrought, So from deep study art's high charm is caught; And as the sunny air, and dewy light, Are spun in heavenly looms, till blossoms, bright With honeyed wealth and sweetness, droop o'er-fraught, And our eyes breathe of beauty; so the bard Wrings from slow time inimitable grace; So wins immortal music her reward, E'en with a bee's industry; and we trace The sculptor's home-thoughts through his labors hard, Till beams, with deathless love, the chiseled face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BABY BELL by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH VISIONS: 5 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) LESSER EPISTLES: TO A LADY ON HER PASSION FOR OLD CHINA by JOHN GAY THE ROSE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE SINGERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE LAST MAN: RECOGNITION by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |