Art
In placid hours well-pleased we dream
Of many a brave unbodied scheme.
But form to lend, pulsed life create,
What unlike things must meet and mate:
A flame to melt a wind to freeze;
Sad patience joyous energies;
Humility yet pride and scorn;
Instinct and study; love and hate;
Audacity reverence. These must mate,
And fuse with Jacob’s mystic heart,
To wrestle with the angel Art.
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