Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream, And I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream

Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream. And I seek then in vain by the meadow and stream.

Oft in the tranquil hour of night, When stars illume the sky, I gaze upon each orb of light, And wish that thou wert by.

Tho' lost to sight, to mem'ry dear/ Thou ever wilt remain.

Art supplies constantly to contemplation what nature seldom affords in concrete experience — the union of life and peace.

Art my slats! I can paint with a shoestring dipped in lard!