Classic Poem

The picture falls within the centred sight
And types the unity that woos delight.
In that one vision, clarified and true,
A failure to conform would wreck the view
And mark the broken and the static thought
That's always under-done or over-wrought.
The poise of perfect method comes and goes;
But never " happens" — as some folk suppose.
There are no accidents in art's domain,
The perfect picture types the perfect strain.