Artist, I own thy genius; but the touch
May be too restless, and the glare too much:
And sure none ever saw a landscape shine,
Basking in beams of such a sun as thine,
But felt a fervid dew upon his phiz,
And panting cried, O Lord, how hot it is!
Scene In France - Loutherbourg. (exhibition, 1807.)
William Lisle Bowles
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Poem topics: sun, touch, shine, thine, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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