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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117598" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Genius of Painting</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ADDRESSED TO D——M——</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Genius of Painting one summer eve stray'd,<br>In a moment of leisure, to Flora's bright bower,<br>Where, scatter'd around, by the hand of the maid,<br>In the richest profusion, bloom'd many a flower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Oh, see,” Flora cried, as the Genius drew nigh,<br>“What an Eden of beauty is blossoming here!<br>But yet”—and a tear-drop stood bright in her eye,—<br>“How soon will its loveliness all disappear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Oh Genius! bid them still live in your art,<br>And my gratitude well shall your kindness repay;<br>To some favour'd mortal your spirit impart,<br>And teach him to rescue my flowers from decay.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behold I have rear'd, in my favourite bower,<br>A shrine, and an altar, dear Painting, for you;<br>And there will I offer each loveliest flower,<br>As often as morning their sweets shall renew.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Many thanks, dearest Flora!” the Genius cried,<br>“Though many an altar and temple is mine,<br>That with richer and costlier gifts are supplied,<br>Yet none of them all shall be dearer than thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I will gift with my spirit whoever you will,<br>Yet choose not, dear Flora, the renegade man;<br>For the ingrate from you will be wandering still,<br>O'er fields more extended and varied to scan.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At this instant, a maiden drew near to the bower,<br>And Flora's own fondness beam'd soft from her eye,<br>As with rapture she hung o'er each beautiful flower,<br>Or heaved o'er the dying a tremulous sigh.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flora turn'd on the Genius a smile of delight—<br>“There, Painting,” she cried, “is my favourite maid!<br>Infuse in her bosom your genius bright,<br>And soon shall your altar be richly array'd.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“On that maid, then,” said he, “shall my spirit descend,<br>A bright, and unfading, and beautiful gem;<br>The young favourite of Flora my shrine shall attend,<br>And the priestess of painting shall still be D. M.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117598" data-title="The Genius of Painting de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="ADDRESSED TO D——M——/The Genius of Painting one summer eve stray'd,/In a moment of leisure, to Flora's bright bower,/Where, scatter'd around, by the hand of the maid,/In the richest profusion, bloom'd many a flower./“Oh, see,” Flora cri..."></div>
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