The Light that artist-painters toil to woo

The light that artist-painters toil to woo,
The light that brings to art a beauty new,
Gerome's deft brush once shed; but sheds no more —
The consecration and the dream are o'er.
The blaze of gold has led from Ney to this,
From mountain peaks down to the deep abyss
Where Cairo-corners jut, and lions pause
In cool defiance of artistic laws.
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