Song To Celia and The Odyssey - Celia and Calypso

Song to Celia

Drinke to me, onely, with thine eyes,

    And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kisse but in the cup,

    And Ile not looke for wine.

The thirst, that from the soule doth rise,

    Doth aske a drinke divine:

But might I of Jove's Nectar sup,

   I would not change for thine.

  I sent thee, late, a rosie wreath,

    Not so much honoring thee,

As giving it a hope, that there

    It could not withered bee.

But thou thereon did'st onely breath,

    And sent'st it back to mee:

Since when it growes, and smells, I sweare,

    Not of it selfe, but thee.

   I would not change for thine.

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,

   Not of itself, but thee.

~ Ben Jonson (1619)

Song to Celia from Poets.org


Jonson uses immortality and eternity symbols such as Jove’s Nectar and a (rosie) wreath i.e. a circle or eternal symbol when he speaks of his love. Much like Donne, Jonson uses the eyes, our “windows to the soul” to flesh out the true nature of Celia’s feelings.

To change the spelling to ‘new English’ would be a mistake, in my opinion as Jonson has already invoked the imagery of Jove (Zeus), nectar - considered by the Greeks to be the ‘Nectar of the Gods’ and hold immortality which is collected by bees from blossoming flowers so the use of bee in line 12 could be said to be a reference to nectar.  Both Jove and nectar are used quite extensively in Homer’s Odyssey. 

Calypso and Odysseus, Oil on canvas, Gerard de Lairesse, Rijks Museum, Amsterdam 

In book V, Homer talks of Calypso who longs for the love of Odysseus who, 'In the nights, true / he'd sleep with her in the arching cave-he had no choice- / unwilling lover alongside lover all too willing... / But all his days he'd sit on the rocks and beaches, / wrenching his heart with sobs and groans and anguish, / gazing over the barren sea through blinding tears. (Homer, The Odyssey, Book V, Lines 170-175)'.  Odysseus loved his wife like Jonson loves Celia and Calypso loves Odysseus. Like Jonson, Calypso will not receive the same eternal and unending love from Odysseus and realizes she must let him go both physically and emotionally. Calypso says to Odysseus, "No need, my unlucky one, to grieve here any longer, / no, don't waste your life away. Now I am willing, / heart and soul, to send you off at last (Homer, The Odyssey, Book V, Lines 177-179)."  Jonson realizes Celia will not return his love the same as he feels when he wrote in lines 13-14, "But thou thereon did'st onely breath, / And sent'st it back to mee".


Both Calypso and Jonson may love deeper and more completely than ever before and want an eternal and immortal love, but when the person they love does not return these feelings they have to let them go.

Calypso's Isle, Oil On Canvas, 1897, Herbert James Draper (1862-1920), Source for Image

And that art and poetry fans is my spin on the poem and not an official analysis... 

Sustainability, the Arts, and Dylan Thomas

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

~ Dylan Thomas

Here is where I normally analyze the poem compared to art but today I am a bit scattered and fortunately for me being scattered works out quite nicely.  I am always prepared with books, images, quotes, medium, inspiration so when I opened the book The Next Eco Warriors given to me by my son Justin this morning my day went off in a new direction. 

Justin Biking and Lorelei "Powered By Tofu" during Earth Day

Since my daughter Lorelei was in South Side Elementary and we made our first Earth Day poster's together, the family including extended family has progressively become involved in the environment and sustainability.  It seems all clean and tidy a trail now in hind-sight from that first Earth Day to the present where my mother Dr. Doreen Sams, PhD at Georgia College started and runs Shades of Green on sustainability and has worked with numerous groups on sustainability and green business marketing and I have designed and implemented Eco-Art Exhibitions on Campus.  

by: Justin Harrison

The arts tie in with me and surprising to me, my son.  He did not surprise me with his photography which is amazing but with his work in the theater and while I do not understand all that he does with the lighting and stage design, I am told he is amazing at it!  The college he attends is the same that my mother is a professor at and they were included in Shades of Green by putting on a play about sustainability. Being that I am the art advocate, the photographer activist wanna be, the firm believer in the arts being a bridge that is able to cross so many barriers in education to inform students and the community about sustainability I try to incorporate arts into as much of the business side of the "fountain" as possible. (There is an actual fountain on campus and though my mother and I speak a different language regarding our fields of study her's being International Marketing/Green Marketing and Mine being Art Education/Art History, we have a common bond academically and are passionate about in caring for our world.) 

This is me! The Wanna Be Activist, Photographer, Art Educator, Mom

Every webpage, every flier, every news cast, everywhere we look around us an artist was involved in the design of how we receive visual information.  That visual information can be positive, negative, or at times null. I want there to be engaging visual conversations about the environment, sustainability, how each person plays a part in this battle, to have another way to access information quickly and responsibly.  

I say responsibly because we are talking about the future of the planet and hence the future of womankind/mankind so messages to various groups should be responsible in that they convey the issues urgency but convey what can be done as well. 

And they stay on each other's backs to this day....

Just like a little curly headed blonde child helped me learn about recycling in the early part of 2000 and my son handed me a book about Eco-Warriors as he stands fast supporting his own causes as a man we all progress through these times, we all can make a difference in the world, and we all must RAGE, RAGE against the dying of the light!

Autumn

Autumn On The Hudson River, Jasper Francis Cropsey, 1860. National Gallery of Art

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 

        Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; 

    Conspiring with him how to load and bless 

        With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; 

    To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, 

        And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 

            To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 

    With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, 

        And still more, later flowers for the bees, 

        Until they think warm days will never cease, 

            For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

                                           

    Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? 

        Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find 

    Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 

        Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; 

    Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, 

        Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook 

            Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: 

    And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep 

        Steady thy laden head across a brook; 

        Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, 

            Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

                                            

    Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? 

        Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,— 

    While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, 

        And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue; 

    Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 

        Among the river sallows, borne aloft 

            Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; 

    And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; 

        Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft 

        The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; 

           And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

~John Keats (1795-1821)

Fall Lighthouse, Lake Michigan, 2006, fred

Masaccio Remembered

Masaccio, Italian artist who was buried in the Carmelite Church in 1443 CE was only somewhat known for his art during his lifetime.  The Renaissance artists and rivalries which would give individual artists like Michelangelo, Leonardo, Botticelli, Titian, and Raphael individuality had only just begun by the end of his life.  Although there was no memorial erected in his honor, there are two epitaphs which are befitting such a wonderful artist, both of course are in the form of poetry: 

I painted, and my picture was like life;

  I gave my figures movement, passion, soul:

They breathed. Thus, all others

  Buonarroti taught; he learnt from me.

By Annibal Caro, Italian Poet

and 

O jealous Fate, why doth thy finger fell

 Asunder pluck the threads of youth's first bloom?

Countless Apelles this one slaying slays;

 In this one death there dies all painting's charm.

With this sun's quenching, all the stars are quench'd;

 Beside this fall, alas! all beauty falls.

By Fabio Segni (Translated from Italian)

Source for the poetry: Vasari, Giorgio. Lives of the Artists. Translated by Bull, George. Penguin Books.

Masaccio, one of the predecessors to the Great Masters of the Renaissance was studied closely by many of the Great Masters and it is speculated that Michelangelo studied Masaccio by making sketches and drawings which surpassed the works of Masaccio.  The amount of drawings is information which is debated by art historians including Vasari. 

Expulsion from Eden, Masaccio, fresco from Brancacci Chapel, Florence.
Image from  http://archives.evergreen.edu/webpages/curricular/2006-2007/greeceanditaly/massacio-expulsion-from-eden-1427-fresco-from-brancacci-chapel-florence/index.html

Masaccio's Expulsion from Eden, 1427, fresco from Brancacci Chapel, Florence was drawn by Michelangelo (Copy of Masaccio, Expulsion c.1490).

Copy of Masaccio, Expulsion. Michelangelo, Drawing, c. 1490

Tribute Money, located in the Chapel of Santa Maria della Carmine, Florence, Italy is perhaps one of the most recognized works of Masaccio.  Masaccio based the heads of the figures on classical heads yet his figures were akin to Donatello's.

Tribute Money, Fresco, 1426-28, 255 x 598 cm, Masaccio, Chapel of Santa Maria della Carmine in
Florence, Italy. Image from Hanover College

Masaccio was not the inventor of linear perspective but perhaps completed one of the early Renaissance's most effective use of perspective in The Holy Trinity.  Unknowingly, Masaccio would further the argument of mathematics as a true science. Masaccio constructed the fresco carefully according to the lines of linear perspective which Brunelleschi had perfected and painted the work to be seen from eye-level.  

The Holy Trinity, 1425, Masaccio. Santa Maria Novella, Florence, Italy. Here the lines following Masaccio's actual geometric framework are overlaid to make clear the structure of the perspective itself. Image obtained from McMurry University

The viewer first encounters the skeleton and inscription "I was once that which you are; and that which I am you will become." The viewer is meant by the gaze of only one individual in the fresco, the Virgin who invites the viewer into this constructed illusion and hence into contemplation of their humanity and meditation on her son.

 The Holy Trinity, 1425, Masaccio. Santa Maria Novella, Florence, Italy
Image obtained from http://legacy.earlham.edu/~vanbma/20th%20century/images/surveydaytwentynine.htm

Give Back, O Silver Stream and Fountain Bright.... Michelangelo

    Give back, O silver stream and fountains bright,
the constant spring you borrowed from my eyes,
the power not yours that makes you swell and rise,
the flow that nature never made so great.
     And you, dense air, that shade the heavenly light
from these sad orbs and thicken with my sighs,
restore them to the heart that weary lies,
clear your dark faces to my new sharpened sight.
     Now let the earth give back my foot's hard print
that grass may grow on what was trodden bare,
echo, long deaf, send back my loud lament; 
     and may your holy lights at last set free
my longing looks to sometime love another
beauty, since you have no delight in me.

Michelangelo
Probably to T. C.

Buonarroti, Michelangelo. "Poems". Michelangelo; Poems and Letters. Translated with an Introduction and Notes by    Anthony Mortimer. London, England: Penguin Classics, 2007.

No matter who Michelangelo's heart belonged to his works were rarely rivaled.  His sketches are quite telling of the amount of time and attention given to his art, which I suspect was is true love before all else.....

Ideal Head, Michelangelo. Print available by appointment at the Ashmolean Museum  print room by appointment http://www.ashmolean.org/departments/westernart/printroom/collections/?s=Michelangelo

Ideal Head of a Woman, Michelangelo, Drawing, British Museum

Study of A Head, Michelangelo

A Youth Beckoning, Pen and brown ink on paper. c. 1504-05. The British Museum, London 

The World Is Too Much With Us

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

It moves us not. --Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

~William Wordsworth, 1807
(Pickering et. al. 1994)

Duquesne Steel Factories At Night, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, c. 1900, Anonymous 

Traffic on Dearborn and Randolph, Chicago, Illinois, 1909

Triton Blowing his Horn - part of the Fontana di Trevi (Trevi Fountain), 1762, Baroque Genre, Rome, Italy, First designs were drafted by Bernini; however after Pope Urban VIII passed and Pope Clement XII became the new Pope Clement XII commissioned Nicola Salvi. Image retrieved from http://www.aviewoncities.com/rome/trevi.htm

Even Wadsworth in 1807 saw the dangers to nature and the eco-system.  Wadsworth wrote this about the dangers of the Industrial Revolution as losing sight of coexisting with nature and the destruction of the self via materialism.  

It is interesting that the words Sea and Nature are capitalized in various places during this poem; to me it signifies that Wadsworth accepted them as individuals, per say, and not objects. Truer today than in 1807 is the actuality that industrial sites, “progress”, and materialism are removing us from our reality that we are part of nature and the lack of connection with nature is what Wadsworth was referring to when he wrote, “The world is too much with us; late and soon, / Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: / Little we see in Nature that is ours…”. 

Humans have powers that are often perceived to defy even the powers of nature, yet Wadsworth, a romantic and proponent of living in harmony with nature, knew in 1807 and we know in our day that this simply is not true.  We have far too long attempted to maintain a façade of control over the forces of Nature, yet now she is fighting back. ~ fred

Nature V. Industry, Photography, 2010, Jeniffer Sams

Poem from: Pickering, J.H., and J. D. Hoeper. Questions To Ask About Poetry. Literature. Edited by D. Anthony English. New York, NY: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1994.


For more information about Pollution and the pollution of the Industrial Revolution the History Channel's Water and Air Pollution Link - http://www.history.com/topics/water-and-air-pollution is a wonderful place to begin.

One Day I Wrote Her Name Upon The Strand

From an AMAZING Blog - http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

Love in the Sand

“Vain man”, said she, “that dost in vain assay

A mortal thing so to immortalize,

For I myself shall like to this decay,

And eek my name be wiped out likewise.”

Jeniffer Sams, 2007

“Not so” quod I, “let baser things devise

To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:

My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,

And in the heavens write your glorious name.

Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,

Our love shall live, and later life renew.”

1595, Edmund Spenser

(Pickering et al. 1994)

I happened upon a blog titled 'From the Shores of Introspection and Retrospect' and I just love the blog, the poetry, the art, and and and so please check it out.... An AMAZING Blog - http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/

Poem from: Pickering, J.H., and J. D. Hoeper. Questions To Ask About Poetry. Literature. Edited by D. Anthony English. New York, NY: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1994.

Afternoon On A Hill

In Poppies, Bladimir Volegov

I will be the gladdest thing
  Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
  And not pick one.

Vladamir Volegov

I will look at cliffs and clouds
  With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
  And the grass rise.

Summer Wind, Vladimir Volegov

  
And when lights begin to show
  Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
  And then start down!

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay 1917

All images from artist Vladimir Volegov http://www.volegov.com/

In Zakynthos

Birth of Venus, 1862, Oil On Canvas,
Eugène Amaury-Duval (copyright at bottom)

No more and never will touch the sacred shores
where the little boy lay my body, 
Zakynthos mine that mirrors you nell'onde 
the greek virgin birth came in off sea 

Venus and fea those fertile islands
with his first smile,
so not silent clear your clouds
and your leaves
towards the illustrious man who waters 

Ulysses Returns Chryseis to her Father, c. 1644,
Oil on Canvas, Claude Lorrain (copyright at bottom)

sang fatal, and a different exile 
so nice of fame and misfortune 
kissed her stony Ithaca Ulysses. 

You do not have nothing but the singing of his son,
or my mother earth, we prescribed 
Fate illacrimata burial. 

Alone, Illustration for Edgar Allen Poe, Edmund Dulac

~ Ugo Foscolo

"The sonnet begins with a triple negation (which is a bitter realization of the poet's loss of his home), and ends with the final judgment of his exile and his illacrimata burial in a foreign land. Between these two poles is contained negative, through the binding of the images and wonderful nostalgic representation of the ideal world of the poet of childhood and the mythical transfiguration of his own experience of exile that is through the analogy between his figure is that of Ulysses. Ulysses, "looking for fame and misfortune" is the image of the poet, himself an exile magnanimously opposed by fate and by man, but above all represents the new concept of the romantic hero, the great strength and dignity with which bears the ravages of misfortune (the exile hesitated, however, will be different; Foscolo unlike Ulysses will be buried in a foreign land and no one will pay for the teardrops on his grave). Other mythic images are also present in the verses, which is that of Homer's poetry eternatrice and heroism of the highest values ​​and Venus, according to myth was born from the foam of the sea, symbol of the fertilizing nature, beauty and harmony, which With her smile has made fruitful and flourishing homeland of the poet (http://www.antelitteram.com/antologia/foscolo.htm)." 

"Fate illacrimata burial" is essentially an unmourned and unlamented burial..... 

Birth of Venus, Eugène Amaury-Duval, 1862, Oil On Canvas, 197x109 cm, Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lille,Image and original data provided by Réunion des Musées Nationaux / Art Resource, N.Y., http://www.artres.com/c/htm/Home.aspx, Rights -Contact information: Ryan Jensen, General Manager, Art Resource, 536 Broadway (5th floor), New York, N.Y. 10012; Tel No: (212) 505-8700; Fax: (212) 505-2653; Email: RJensen@artres.com / Please note that if this image is under copyright, you may need to contact one or more copyright owners for any use that is not permitted under the ARTstor Terms and Conditions of Use or not otherwise permitted by law. While ARTstor tries to update contact information, it cannot guarantee that such information is always accurate. Determining whether those permissions are necessary, and obtaining such permissions, is your sole responsibility.


Ulysses Returns Chryseis to her Father, Claude Lorrain, c. 1644, Oil on Canvas, 119x150 cm, Musée du Louvre,Image and original data provided by SCALA, Florence/ART RESOURCE, N.Y. / http://www.artres.com/c/htm/Home.aspx & http://www.scalarchives.com / Image Rights:(c) 2006, SCALA, Florence / ART RESOURCE, N.Y. Please note that if this image is under copyright, you may need to contact one or more copyright owners for any use that is not permitted under the ARTstor Terms and Conditions of Use or not otherwise permitted by law. While ARTstor tries to update contact information, it cannot guarantee that such information is always accurate. Determining whether those permissions are necessary, and obtaining such permissions, is your sole responsibility.

The Broken Heart

El Abrazo, Oil on Canvas, 2006, Santiago Carbonell

He is stark mad, whoever says,
    That he hath been in love an hour,
Yet not that love so soon decays,
    But that it can ten in less space devour ;
Who will believe me, if I swear
That I have had the plague a year?
    Who would not laugh at me, if I should say
    I saw a flash of powder burn a day?

Ah, what a trifle is a heart,
    If once into love's hands it come !
All other griefs allow a part
    To other griefs, and ask themselves but some ;
They come to us, but us love draws ;
He swallows us and never chaws ;
    By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die ;
    He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.

Don't You Remember, Ryan DeLaurentis His Weblink

If 'twere not so, what did become
    Of my heart when I first saw thee?
I brought a heart into the room,
    But from the room I carried none with me.
If it had gone to thee, I know
Mine would have taught thine heart to show
    More pity unto me ; but Love, alas !
    At one first blow did shiver it as glass.

Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
    Nor any place be empty quite ;
Therefore I think my breast hath all
    Those pieces still, though they be not unite ;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
    My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
    But after one such love, can love no more.

~ John Donne

Love at first sight, in an instant can affect us and make our world feel whole and complete.... make a flash ('a flash of powder burn a day) feel like eternity until love destroys the heart that feels love, but like a mirror shattered on the floor a broken heart ('Those pieces still, though they be not unite; And now, as broken glasses show - A hundred lesser faces....') shattered shows love even in the shattered heart.... It is part of the broken hearted only amplified and reflected hundreds of times over.  The heart of the love lost remains, but in painful shards. After such a strong, passionate, love at first sight and whole love described Donne writes 'But after one such love, can love no more.' - perhaps it is not that love is not possible, but this kind of love is a once in a lifetime love, not shattered and painfully gone.

Henry Miller and new Art

by: Bliss by Constantine Lvovich

“Nothing can be given or taken away; nothing has been added or subtracted; nothing increased or diminished. We stand on the same shore before the same mighty ocean. The ocean of love. There it is - in perpetuum. As much in a broken blossom, the sound of a waterfall, the swoop of a carrion bird as in the thunderous artillery of the prophet.

by: Dale Terbush

We move with eyes shut and ears stopped; we smash walls where doors are waiting to open to the touch; we grope for ladders, forgetting that we have wings; we pray as if God were deaf and blind, as if He were in a space. No wonder the angels in our midst are unrecognizable.
One day it will be pleasant to remember these things.”

by: Elena Dudina

― Henry Miller

I love this artist's interpretation of 'Angels and Demons too.... How true it is......

Ode - The Past and Present Dreamers of Dreams

Ode

Golden Dreams, Richard Johnson

We are the music makers, 
And we are the dreamer of dreams, 
Wandering by lone sea-breakers, 
And sitting by desolate streams; 
World-losers and world-forsakers, 
On whom the pale moon gleams: 
Yet we are the movers and shakers 
Of the world for ever, it seems. 

With wonderful deathless ditties, 
We build up the world's great cities, 
And out of a fabulous story 
We fashion an empire's glory: 
One man with a dream, at pleasure, 
Shall go forth and conquer a crown; 
And three with a new song's measure 
Can trample an empire down. 

Le Danse de la Sylphide, Richard Johnson 

We, in the ages lying 
In the buried past of earth, 
Built Nineveh with our sighing, 
And Babel itself with our mirth; 
And o'erthrew them with prophesying 
To the old of the new world's worth; 
For each age is a dream that is dying, 
Or one that is coming to birth. 


A breath of our inspiration, 
Is the life of each generation. 
A wondrous thing of our dreaming, 
Unearthly, impossible seeming- 
The soldier, the king, and the peasant 
Are working together in one, 
Till our dream shall become their present, 
And their work in the world be done. 

They had no vision amazing 
Of the goodly house they are raising. 
They had no divine foreshowing 
Of the land to which they are going: 
But on one man's soul it hath broke, 
A light that doth not depart 
And his look, or a word he hath spoken, 
Wrought flame in another man's heart. 

Break of Day, Richard Johnson

And therefore today is thrilling, 
With a past day's late fulfilling. 
And the multitudes are enlisted 
In the faith that their fathers resisted, 
And, scorning the dream of tomorrow, 
Are bringing to pass, as they may, 
In the world, for it's joy or it's sorrow, 
The dream that was scorned yesterday. 


But we, with our dreaming and singing, 
Ceaseless and sorrowless we! 
The glory about us clinging 
Of the glorious futures we see, 
Our souls with high music ringing; 
O men! It must ever be 
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing, 
A little apart from ye. 

For we are afar with the dawning 
And the suns that are not yet high, 
And out of the infinite morning 
Intrepid you hear us cry- 
How, spite of your human scorning, 
Once more God's future draws nigh, 
And already goes forth the warning 
That ye of the past must die. 

Evening Comes, Richard Johnson

Great hail! we cry to the corners 
From the dazzling unknown shore; 
Bring us hither your sun and your summers, 
And renew our world as of yore; 
You shall teach us your song's new numbers, 
And things that we dreamt not before; 
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers, 
And a singer who sings no more. 

Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy (1844-1881)

Richard S. Johnson Fine Arts - http://rjohnson.fineartstudioonline.com/