I SAW a picture once by Angelo. <br />“Unfinished,” said the critic; “done in youth;” <br />And that was all, no thought of praise, forsooth! <br />He was informed, and doubtless it was so. <br />And yet, I let an hour of dreaming go <br />The way of all time, touched to tears and ruth, <br />Passion and joy, the prick of conscience’ tooth, <br />Before that careworn Christ’s divine, soft glow. <br />The painter’s yearning with an unsure hand <br />Had moved me more than might his master days; <br />He seemed to speak like one whose Meccaland <br />Is first beheld, though faint and far the ways; <br />Who may not then his shaken voice command, <br />Yet trembles forth a word of prayer and praise.<br /><br />Richard Francis Burton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-unpraised-picture/
