Classic Poem

At times, into my soul a brightness bursts
Whose witchery of allurement I would weave
Upon the canvas of the sky. But when
I push my skill to joy's most subtle range
The colours veil my vision, till a power
More gifted than my own sweeps me with flame,
And robes with hurricane. Then, raimented
With fire, I touch the theme with sunbeam flash,
And soon it stands a thing all wonder-fraught,
A miracle of light, and I perceive
That viewless fingers of Omnipotence
Have made their skill my own.