Page:Vision of Giorgione, Bottomley, 1910.djvu/21



I

A CONCERT OF GIORGIONE

PARIS

HE sky's last rose falls into the water;

It sinks and melts and, melting, sinks once more.

The far bell tilts, and a stale star or two

Left over from last night blink like the bell.

A ceaseless fountain of flies is rising and falling—

They are as still as one more dimness falling

On the last water where my heart feels falling

O, falling, falling, till the world is done.

GIORGIONE

The work is finished; paint could but imitate it.

This is no vision to create anew

The painter's way; perfection comes but once,

And we must bring the mood for it ourselves.