Not human art, but living gods alone <br />Can fashion beauties that by changing live,-- <br />Her buds to spring, his fruits to autumn give, <br />To earth her fountains in her heart of stone; <br />But these in their begetting are o'erthrown, <br />Nor may the sentenced minutes find reprieve; <br />And summer in the blush of joy must grieve <br />To shed his flaunting crown of petals blown. <br />We to our works may not impart our breath, <br />Nor them with shifting light of life array; <br />We show but what one happy moment saith; <br />Yet may our hands immortalize the day <br />When life was sweet, and save from utter death <br />The sacred past that should not pass away.<br /><br />George Santayana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-power-of-art/
