What praise of beauty poems can pay
May none of duty’s pages say,
But through the mind of joyous sight
The live words wind around so right
That pen and hand, in easy sway,
Draw beauty’s crown with lines of light.
When eyes that view to self are true
High praise of heights is never through,
For in the joy of judging soul,
That sees each part and loves each whole,
A fire burns, whose flames renew,
To light with life the shaping goal.
Where lone ideal may far off seem,
Where deep in darkness stalls a dream,
One word of praise may raise, bring near,
Now whirring wings that fast appear,
And break the clouds for beauty’s beam,
And order down all doubt and fear!
At last, what joy it is to sing,
With notes of love that ring and ring!
To send your secret soul in air
And see rare beauty soaring fair!
And all the while, beside, you cling
To you that’s here and you that’s there!