Christopher Pearse Cranch
Sonnet Xv: The Photograph - Poem by Christopher Pearse Cranch
Phoebus Apollo, from Olympus driven,
Lived at Admetus, tending herds and flocks:
And strolling o'er the pastures and the rocks
He found his life much duller than in Heaven.
For he had left his bow, his songs, his lyre,
His divinations and his healing skill,
And as a serf obeyed his master's will.
One day a new thought waked an old desire.
He took to painting, with his colors seven,
The sheep, the cows, the faces of the swains,
All shapes and hues of forests and on plains.
These old sun-pictures all are lost, or given
Away among the god. Man owns but half
The Sun-god's secret-in the Photograph.
Comments about Sonnet Xv: The Photograph by Christopher Pearse Cranch
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You