William Bell Scott
William Bell Scott Poems
|83.||Dante In Exile||4/22/2010|
|84.||The Old Old Story||4/22/2010|
|86.||The Norns Watering Yggdrasill||4/22/2010|
|91.||An Anniversary, The 31st||4/22/2010|
|92.||An Autumn Evening||4/22/2010|
|94.||The Which's Ballad||1/4/2003|
|95.||A Lowland Witch Ballad||4/22/2010|
|97.||Wm. Blake’s Designs For The Grave||4/22/2010|
|98.||Raphael’s Madonna Di San Sisto||4/22/2010|
|103.||Dante And Beatrice||4/22/2010|
|104.||Love And Death||4/22/2010|
|105.||Art For Art’s Sake||4/22/2010|
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 ...
(W. A. C. S.)
In early morn he rose elate,
Rose up with the strength of ten,
We recognised a king of men.
He would not linger, could not wait,
Opened at once the golden gate
And entered to the unlit shrine,
Poured out, yea, drank, the lustral wine.