A lasting fault of great mankind:
There is no hope to reconcile
Pretentious grandeur – eerie, tall
With the insignificance of the blind;
Yet sheltered for a sorry while
By providence, or fruit of mind.
O, to gaze into the frightful fall-
Lulling civilization heard behind
And show L’appel du vide a smile,
Upon the precipice, both declined.
A Heaven amber burnt and hoary blue
The sea: streaked fire and azure
A golden vessel sailing true
Its regal warriors now secure-
All reflect a wondrous hue
Mercilessly enchanting, like Sirens’ lure,
It binds the viewer to the view,
Leaves immersion as his cure;
Immovable are but the few
Against a work of art so pure.
Master of Romance and the new-
Your stroke projects a soul that’s sure,
Wouldst Nature only copy you!
