What works of art and tender love <br />That touch my soul so deeply now, <br />And yield a sense of peace and calm <br />Whene'er I look and see, <br />For every stroke so bold and true <br />Adorned each waiting canvas there, <br />With greatness and the tales they tell <br />Shall always speak to me. <br /> <br />Those scenes of noble England green <br />And of its wondrous countryside, <br />The meadows and the fields of corn <br />Within the land so fair, <br />Amidst the views that have no end <br />So one can almost feel the breeze, <br />And hear the rustle of the leaves <br />As if you too were there. <br /> <br />With rivers and those silver streams <br />That yield a joy where' ere they flow, <br />Reflections cast upon the lakes <br />And colours rich with hue, <br />They shall survive undimmed by time <br />Beyond a thousand years or more, <br />So all who seek will marvel then <br />And give their praise to you. <br /> <br />For every soul shall look upon <br />Your works with everlasting joy, <br />And see those skies of deepest blue <br />With clouds of light and shade, <br />As if a dream and yet so clear <br />While shadows rest upon the ground, <br />The sun will shine for evermore <br />And never dull nor fade.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-works-of-art-and-tender-love-to-john-constable/
