Page:The poems of George Eliot (Crowell, 1884).djvu/438

 These make at last a storm which flashes out In lightning revelations. Steady work Turns genius to a loom ; the soul must lie Like grapes beneath the sun till ripeness comes And mellow vintage. I could paint you now The finest Crucifixion ; yesternight Returning home I saw it on a sky Blue-black, thick-starred. I want two louis d'ors To buy the canvas and the costly blues — Trust me a fortnight."

"Where are those last two I lent thee for thy Judith ? — her thou saw'st In saffron gown, with Holofernes' head And beauty all complete ? "

" She is but sketched : I lack the proper model — and the mood. A great idea is an eagle's egg, Craves time for hatching ; while the eagle sits, Feed her."

"If thou wilt call thy pictures eggs I call the hatching, Work. 'T is God gives skill, But not without men's hands : He could not make Antonio Stradivari's violins Without Antonio. Get thee to thy easel."

1873. 1