Give to barrows, trays, and pans <br />Grace and glimmer of romance; <br />Bring the moonlight into noon <br />Hid in gleaming piles of stone; <br />On the city's paved street <br />Plant gardens lined with lilacs sweet; <br />Let spouting fountains cool the air, <br />Singing in the sun-baked square; <br />Let statue, picture, park, and hall, <br />Ballad, flag, and festival, <br />The past restore, the day adorn, <br />And make to-morrow a new morn. <br />So shall the drudge in dusty frock <br />Spy behind the city clock <br />Retinues of airy kings, <br />Skirts of angels, starry wings, <br />His fathers shining in bright fables, <br />His children fed at heavenly tables. <br />'T is the privilege of Art <br />Thus to play its cheerful part, <br />Man on earth to acclimate, <br />And bend the exile to his fate, <br />And, moulded of one element <br />With the days and firmament, <br />Teach him on these as stairs to climb, <br />And live on even terms with Time; <br />Whilst upper life the slender rill <br />Of human sense doth overfill.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/art-38/
