To S. M., A Young African Painter, On Seeing His Works

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1. Thoughts On The Works Of Providence A R I S E, my soul, on wings enraptur’d, rise To praise the monarch of the earth and skies, Whose goodness and benificence appear As round its centre moves the rolling year, Or when the morning glows with rosy charms, Or the sun slumbers in the ocean’s arms: Of light divine be a rich […]...
2. To The Painter Of An Ill-drawn Picture of Cleone Sooner I’d praise a Cloud which Light beguiles, Than thy rash Hand which robs this Face of Smiles; And does that sweet and pleasing Air control, Which to us paints the fair CLEONE’s Soul. ‘Tis vain to boast of Rules or labour’d Art; I miss the Look that captivates my Heart, Attracts my Love, and […]...
3. To A Young Lady In vain, fair Maid, you ask in vain, My pen should try th’ advent’rous strain, And following truth’s unalter’d law, Attempt your character to draw. I own indeed, that generous mind That weeps the woes of human kind, That heart by friendship’s charms inspired, That soul with sprightly fancy fired, The air of life, the […]...
4. 178. Impromptu on Carron Iron Works WE cam na here to view your warks, In hopes to be mair wise, But only, lest we gang to hell, It may be nae surprise: But when we tirl’d at your door Your porter dought na hear us; Sae may, shou’d we to Hell’s yetts come, Your billy Satan sair us!...
5. My Dreams, My Works, Must Wait Till After Hell I hold my honey and I store my bread In little jars and cabinets of my will. I label clearly, and each latch and lid I bid, Be firm till I return from hell. I am very hungry. I am incomplete. And none can give me any word but Wait, The puny light. I keep […]...
6. On The Death Of A Young Lady Of Five Years Of Age FROM dark abodes to fair etherial light Th’ enraptur’d innocent has wing’d her flight; On the kind bosom of eternal love She finds unknown beatitude above. This known, ye parents, nor her loss deplore, She feels the iron hand of pain no more; The dispensations of unerring grace, Should turn your sorrows into grateful praise; […]...
7. To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the Blest; Whose palms, new pluck’d from Paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise, Rich with immortal green above the rest: Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star, Thou roll’st above us, in thy wand’ring race, Or, in procession fix’d and regular, Mov’d with […]...
8. Sonnet 151: Love is too young to know what conscience is Love is too young to know what conscience is; Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body’s treason; My soul doth tell my body […]...
9. To His Honour the Lieutenant-Governor All-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow’r, Hope’s tow’ring plumage falls to rise no more! Of scenes terrestrial how the glories fly, Forget their splendors, and submit to die! Who ere escap’d thee, but the saint of old Beyond the flood in sacred annals told, And the great sage, whom fiery coursers drew To heav’n’s bright […]...
10. A Creation Of Our Love We didn’t give birth to you – that is true, But you are still a creation of our love. For many years we prayed to the Heavens above To bless our lives with a new soul. With a precious new soul who Would make our family whole. And then one day – along you came […]...
11. By Their Works Who cleaned up the Last Supper? These would be my people. Maybe hung over, wanting Desperately a better job, Standing with rags In hand as the window Beckons with hills Of yellow grass. In Da Vinci, The blue robed apostle Gesturing at Christ Is saying, give Him the check. What a mess they’ve made Of […]...
12. On the Death of a Young Gentleman Who taught thee conflict with the pow’rs of night, To vanquish satan in the fields of light? Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown, How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown! War with each princedom, throne, and pow’r is o’er, The scene is ended to return no more. O could my muse […]...
13. Last Instructions to a Painter After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall’st to work, first, Painter, see If’t ben’t too slight grown or too hard for thee. Canst thou paint without colors? Then ’tis right: For so we too without a fleet can fight. Or canst thou […]...
14. Not Works Grace, triumphant in the throne, Scorns a rival, reigns alone; Come and bow beneath her sway; Cast your idol works away! Works of man, when made his plea, Never shall accepted be; Fruits of pride (vainglorious worm!) Are the best he can perform. Self, the god his soul adores, Influences all his powers; Jesus is […]...
15. Psalm 133 Brotherly love. Lo! what an entertaining sight Are brethren that agree! Brethren, whose cheerful hearts unite In bands of piety! When streams of love from Christ the spring Descend to every soul, And heav’nly peace, with balmy wing, Shades and bedews the whole; ‘Tis like the oil, divinely sweet, On Aaron’s reverend head The trickling […]...
16. The Dying Christian to His Soul Vital spark of heav’nly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying, O the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life. Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister Spirit, come away! What is this absorbs me quite? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, […]...
17. AFRICAN WRITINGS If you meet literature from Africa Or even their mentors In such works You realize a trait of madness Pumping into the throbbing poetics. There is a knack in it that sparks alight The nearest shrubs; Intrigue and sensation incomparable. The heart of African literature Pumping wordy blood into fragile young minds. Rejuvenating the African […]...
18. Benjamin Painter Together in this grave lie Benjamin Painter, attorney at law, And Nig, his dog, constant companion, solace and friend. Down the grey road, friends, children, men and women, Passing one by one out of life, left me till I was alone With Nig for partner, bed fellow, comrade in drink. In the morning of life […]...
19. Mrs. Benjamin Painter I know that he told how I snared his soul With a snare which bled him to death. And all the men loved him, And most of the women pitied him. But suppose you are really a lady, and have delicate tastes, And loathe the smell of whisky and onions. And the rhythm of Wordsworth’s […]...
20. The Moon is a Painter He coveted her portrait. He toiled as she grew gay. She loved to see him labor In that devoted way. And in the end it pleased her, But bowed him more with care. Her rose-smile showed so plainly, Her soul-smile was not there. That night he groped without a lamp To find a cloak, a […]...
21. Agapanthus – african lily [from agape (love); anthus (flower)] You may not be willing to notice me I have an awkward sense of myself My name can be hard on the tongue I do not grow easily in places Where the sun only fitfully appears I’ve come a long way northwards Gardens do not flatter my needs I am […]...
22. Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled Thy beauty’s form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein ’tis held, And perspective it is best painter’s art. For through the painter must you see his skill To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosom’s shop is […]...
23. To a Gentleman on His Voyage to Great-Britain While others chant of gay Elysian scenes, Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow’ry plains, My song more happy speaks a greater name, Feels higher motives and a nobler flame. For thee, O R -, the muse attunes her strings, And mounts sublime above inferior things. I sing not now of green embow’ring woods, I sing […]...
24. Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent How can my Muse want subject to invent While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent For every vulgar paper to rehearse? O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me Worthy perusal stand against thy sight, For who’s so dumb that cannot write to thee, When thou […]...
25. The Young Fools (Les Ingénus) High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress So that, between the wind and the terrain, At times a shining stocking would be seen, And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness. Also, at times a jealous insect’s dart Bothered out beauties. Suddenly a white Nape flashed beneath the branches, and this sight Was a delicate […]...
26. On Virtue O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach. I cease to wonder, and no more attempt Thine height t’ explore, or fathom thy profound. But, O my soul, sink not into despair, Virtue is near thee, and with gentle […]...
27. LOVE AS A LANDSCAPE PAINTER ON a rocky peak once sat I early, Gazing on the mist with eyes unmoving; Stretch’d out like a pall of greyish texture, All things round, and all above it cover’d. Suddenly a boy appear’d beside me, Saying “Friend, what meanest thou by gazing On the vacant pall with such composure? Hast thou lost for […]...
28. Hymn 62 Christ Jesus, the Lamb of God, worshipped by all the creation. Rev. 5:11-13. Come, let us join our cheerful songs With angels round the throne; Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one. “Worthy the Lamb that died,” they cry, “To be exalted thus:” “Worthy the Lamb,” our lips reply, “For […]...
29. Hymn 45 The last judgment. Rev. 21:5-8. See where the great incarnate God Fills a majestic throne; While from the skies his awful voice Bears the last judgment down. [“I am the first, and I the last, Through endless years the same; I AM is my memorial still, And my eternal name. “Such favors as a God […]...
30. Sonnet CI O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say ‘Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix’d; Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay; But […]...
31. By Their Works Call him not heretic whose works attest His faith in goodness by no creed confessed. Whatever in love’s name is truly done To free the bound and lift the fallen one Is done to Christ. Whoso in deed and word Is not against Him labours for our Lord. When he, who, sad and weary, longing […]...
32. His Wife, The Painter There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks, And outside a large green bus swerves through traffic like Insanity sprung from a waving line; Turgenev, Turgenev, Says the radio, and Jane Austin, Jane Austin, too. “I am going to do her portrait on the 28th, while you are At work.” He […]...
33. A Song Of A Young Lady To Her Ancient Lover Ancient Person, for whom I All the flattering youth defy, Long be it e’er thou grow old, Aching, shaking, crazy cold; But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind […]...
34. Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say, “Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed, Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay, But […]...
35. Night (O you whose countenance) Night. O you whose countenance, dissolved In deepness, hovers above my face. You who are the heaviest counterweight To my astounding contemplation. Night, that trembles as reflected in my eyes, But in itself strong; Inexhaustible creation, dominant, Enduring beyond the earth’s endurance; Night, full of newly created stars that leave Trails of fire streaming from […]...
36. This Me that walks and works must die This Me that walks and works must die, Some fair or stormy Day, Adversity if it may be Or wild prosperity The Rumor’s Gate was shut so tight Before my mind was born Not even a Prognostic’s push Can make a Dent thereon...
37. Room 4: The Painter Chap He gives me such a bold and curious look, That young American across the way, As if he’d like to put me in a book (Fancies himself a poet, so they say.) Ah well! He’ll make no “document” of me. I lock my door. Ha! ha! Now none shall see. . . . Pictures, just […]...
38. A Funeral Poem on the Death of C. E Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin’d round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes: […]...
39. Joy and Peace in Believing Sometimes a light surprises The Christian while he sings; It is the Lord who rises With healing on His wings; When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again A season of clear shining, To cheer it after rain. In holy contemplation We sweetly then pursue The theme of God’s salvation, And find it ever […]...
40. A Beautiful Young Nymph Going To Bed Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane, For whom no Shepherd sighs in vain; Never did Covent Garden boast So bright a batter’d, strolling Toast; No drunken Rake to pick her up, No Cellar where on Tick to sup; Returning at the Midnight Hour; Four Stories climbing to her Bow’r; Then, seated on a three-legg’d Chair, Takes off […]...