We need beauty to feed the sovereign soul.
Gadgets and gold are simply not enough.
It seems some deep eternal need is filled;
When Art’s textures sweep our spirits away.
Music’s mellifluous power to charm
Is beyond the reach of any distant star.
Beauty soars like birds over the abyss.
It’s the bright spark of divine consciousness.
Poetry’s vivid, potent portraits of life
Distract us from endless, bleak, wintry nights.
It seems we need beauty or we decay
Like all the withered roses at Summer’s end.
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