New Zealand Verse/The Devotee of Art
CXXVIII.
The Devotee of Art.
Ask me not why I work with so much zeal
To form the thing that seems to me so fair,
When over all, in spite of every care,
The lines of slow decay will surely steal.
I work because I must, because I feel
The sway of Art, its inspiration rare,
Which leadeth by a broad and lofty stair
To where Truth doth to me herself reveal
In regal splendour. This I strive to show
That all who see may render homage due.
For, though my work shall fade, yet well I know,
If men her beauty see, it shall not die :
In every age they will her face renew,
And keep her radiant glories ever nigh.
To form the thing that seems to me so fair,
When over all, in spite of every care,
The lines of slow decay will surely steal.
I work because I must, because I feel
The sway of Art, its inspiration rare,
Which leadeth by a broad and lofty stair
To where Truth doth to me herself reveal
In regal splendour. This I strive to show
That all who see may render homage due.
For, though my work shall fade, yet well I know,
If men her beauty see, it shall not die :
In every age they will her face renew,
And keep her radiant glories ever nigh.
Henry Allison.