William Bell Scott
William Bell Scott (12 September 1811 – 22 November 1890), British poet and artist, son of Robert Scott (1777-1841), the engraver, and brother of David Scott, the painter, was born in Edinburgh.
While a young man he studied art and assisted his father, and he published verses in the Scottish magazines. In 1837 he went to London, where he became sufficiently well known as an artist to be appointed in 1844 master of the government school of design at Newcastle-on-Tyne. He held the post for twenty years, and did good work in organizing art-teaching and examining under the Science and Art Department.
He did much fine decorative work, too, on his own account, notably at ... more »
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William Bell Scott Poems
Art For Art’s Sake
‘Art for art's sake,’—very well, Your picture you don't care to sell? Yes, yes, I do, and thus I try
Love And Death
‘Open the door! Thou canst not understand My mission, thou spoilt child of many a god, Thou who dost claim the heart for thy abode;
Dante And Beatrice
Ah, did she pass so coldly by The tenderest love in all the earth, Making his lifetime one long sigh, That never knew a morn of mirth?
In the first watch of the night, One candle all my light, I saw a Spirit near the door Standing raised above the floor,
The widow heard Elijah's tread, She heard his staff against the door, She wrapped the sackcloth round her head,
Another day hath dawned Since, hastily and tired, I threw myself Into the dark lap of advancing sleep.
Raphael’s Madonna Di San Sisto
Once and once only, and no more, Art hath reached the topmost bough; The goodliest fruit of all his store Our well-filled garner holds till now.
That foxglove by the garden gate, The very day the war began, Opened its first, its lowest flower.
A Lowland Witch Ballad
The old witch-wife beside her door Sat spinning with a watchful ear, A horse's hoof upon the road Is what she waits for, longs to hear,
The Which's Ballad
O, I hae come from far away, From a warm land far away, A southern land across the sea, With sailor-lads about the mast,
A celtic Saint this tale first told, Ere Dante's birth the saint was cold, But he in faith with mortal eyes Had been uplifted through the skies
Wm. Blake’s Designs For The Grave
There was a time before the chick could fly, But still was screened by the maternal wing,
Is this indeed All-Hallow's day, When fairies hold their annual play? As out of school like bees they fly,
An Autumn Evening
Dinner and day together go, As round the table still we dwell, Watching the sun descending slow,
Comments about William Bell Scott
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Art For Art’s Sake
‘Art for art's sake,’—very well,
Your picture you don't care to sell?
Yes, yes, I do, and thus I try
To paint so bright they want to buy—
‘Art for art's sake,’—then I fear
You want no sympathetic tear
From the stalls and boxes here?
Yes, yes, I do, I write it so,
A hundred nights the crowds shall go—
‘Art for art's sake,’—Heavens! once more,
You'd say again things said before?
And pray, why not? I wish I could
Stand as Shakespeare, Fletcher, stood—
Nay, dear aspirant, rather write
As Shakespeare were he here to-night;
That would be far more worth ...