Washington Allston (1779–1843)

In the Possession of J. S. Copley Green, Esq.

O, WHO can look on that celestial face,

And kindred for it claim with aught on earth?

If ever here more lovely form had birth—

No, never that supernal purity,—that grace

So eloquent of unimpassioned love!

That, by a simple movement, thus imparts

Its own harmonious peace, the while our hearts

Rise, as by instinct, to the world above.

And yet we look on cold, unconscious stone.

But what is that which thus our spirits own

As Truth and Life? ’T is not material Art,

But e’en the sculptor’s soul to sense unsealed.

O, never may he doubt—its witness so revealed—

There lives within him an immortal part!