ART MAY BE RED BUT DOES IT FLY

SAINTS with LIONS

I D O L S

The moon of wasting science wanes away Among her stars, and in that darkness vast The sons of earth to their foul idols pray SHELLEY 1817

ECHOES

Remaining betwixt dark and bright Lull’d echoes of laborious day Come to you, gleams of mellow light Float by you on the verge of night TENNYSON 1832

SILVER SPIKES

The fat earth feed thy branchy root That under deeply strikes The northern morning o’er thee shoot High up, in silver spikes TENNYSON 1842