ART MAY BE RED BUT DOES IT FLY

SAINTS with LIONS

PATHLESS BLUE

Like some radiant cloud of morning dew, Which wanders thro’ the waste air’s pathless blue, To nourish some far desert: she did seem Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew, Like the bright shade of some immortal dream SHELLEY 1816

A R G E N T

In the neighbouring moon as some have dreamed; Those argent fields more likely habitants, Translated Saints, or middle Spirits hold Betwixt the angelical and human kind MILTON 1667

CHALICES

With graceful chalices of curious wine, Wonders of art – and costly jars, And bossed salvers. Ere young night divine Crowned dying day with stars TENNYSON 1833