All Divine Artists, Humble, Filial, Turn Therefore Unto Thee, The Poet'S Sun; First-Born Of God'S Creation, Only Done When From Thee, Centre-Form, The Veil Did Fall, And Thou, Symbol Of All, Heart, Coronal, The Highest Life With Noblest Form Made One, To Do Thy Father'S Bidding Hadst Begun; The Living Germ In This Strange Planet-Ball, Even As Thy Form In Mind Of Striving Saint. So, As The One Ideal, Beyond Taint, Thy Radiance Unto All Some Shade Doth Yield, In Every Splendour Shadowy Revealed: But When, By Word Or Hand, Thee One Would Paint, Power Falls Down Straightway, Speechless, Dim-Eyed, Faint.