Earth's Artists

A PAINTER Autumn is, whose brush
Shows earth’s hot heart in each cool rush,
Each bush flames underfoot, each tree —
A tossing torch — flares high and free,
Each plant would all a flower be.

A Sculptor Winter is: his hand
With icy chisel carves the land;
He bares earth’s pureness to the light,
His keen strokes shape with rigor right
The sudden goddess, hushed and white.

Earth listens: her Musician, Spring,
Afar, and timid, thrills his string:
The goddess melts, — a girl descends;
Those stars, her eyes, on his she bends,
And deathless hope his luting lends.

But when the girl a woman turns
Within her soul all music burns;
Her Poet, Summer, sings the word
Her spirit had but inly heard,
And life to know Life’s joy is stirred.