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12.2: 348 (I would not paint – a picture)

  • Page ID
    125861
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    I would not paint — a picture —
    I’d rather be the One
    Its bright impossibility
    To dwell — delicious — on —
    And wonder how the fingers feel
    Whose rare — celestial — stir —
    Evokes so sweet a Torment —
    Such sumptuous — Despair —

    I would not talk, like Cornets —
    I’d rather be the One
    Raised softly to the Ceilings —
    And out, and easy on —
    Through Villages of Ether —
    Myself endued Balloon
    By but a lip of Metal —
    The pier to my Pontoon —

    Nor would I be a Poet —
    It’s finer — own the Ear —
    Enamored — impotent — content —
    The License to revere,
    A privilege so awful
    What would the Dower be,
    Had I the Art to stun myself
    With Bolts of Melody!


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