(Lines written after viewing Mr Arthur Dove's <br />exposition of the 'Simultaneousness of the Ambient') <br /> <br /> <br />I cannot tell you how I love <br />The canvases of Mr Dove, <br />Which Saturday I went to see <br />In Mr Thurber's gallery. <br /> <br />At first you fancy they are built <br />As patterns for a crazy-quilt, <br />But soon you see that they express <br />An ambient simultaneousness. <br /> <br />This thing which you would almost bet <br />Portrays a Spanish omelette, <br />Depicts instead, with wondrous skill, <br />A horse and cart upon a hill. <br /> <br />Now, Mr Dove has too much art <br />To show the horse or show the cart; <br />Instead he paints the <br />creak <br />and <br />strain, <br /> <br />Get it? No pike is half so plain. <br /> <br />This thing which would appear to show <br />A fancy vest scenario, <br />Is really quite another thing -- <br />A flock of pigeons on the wing. <br /> <br />But Mr Dove is much too keen <br />To let a single bird be seen; <br />To show the pigeons would not do, <br />And so he simply paints the coo. <br /> <br />It's all as simple as can be; <br />He paints the things you cannot see. <br />Just as composers please the ear <br />With programme things you cannot hear. <br /> <br />Dove is the cleverest of chaps; <br />And, gazing at his rhythmic maps, <br />I wondered (and I'm wondering yet) <br />Whether he did them on a bet.<br /><br />Bert Leston Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/post-impressionism/
