HIGH is our calling, Friend!–Creative Art
(Whether the instrument of words she use,
Or pencil pregnant with ethereal hues,)
Demands the service of a mind and heart,
Though sensitive, yet, in their weakest part,
Heroically fashioned–to infuse
Faith in the whispers of the lonely Muse,
While the whole world seems adverse to desert.
And, oh! when Nature sinks, as oft she may,
Through long-lived pressure of obscure distress,
Still to be strenuous for the bright reward,
And in the soul admit of no decay,
Brook no continuance of weak-mindedness–
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
You May Also Like:
- The Morning Of The Day Appointed For A General Thanksgiving. January 18, 1816
- Composed After A Journey Across The Hambleton Hills, Yorkshire
- The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons – Dedication
- Tribute To The Memory Of The Same Dog
- The Martial Courage Of A Day Is Vain
- To The Same (John Dyer)
- Sonnet: It is not to be thought of that the Flood
- Repentance
Leave a Reply