Showing posts with label Auguste Renoir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Auguste Renoir. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Ah, Venice

Piazza San Marcos Venice  Auguste Renior
On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic  
by William Wordsworth
Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;
And was the safeguard of the west: the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
She was a maiden City, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And, when she took unto herself a Mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reached its final day:
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which once was great is passed away.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Swept Away at the Theater

The First Outing  Auguste Renoir


At the Theater
                           by Rachel Field
The sun was bright when we went in,
But night and lights were there,
The walls had golden trimming on
And plush on every chair.

The people talked; the music played,
Then it grew black as pitch,
Yes, black as closets full of clothes,
Or caves, I don't know which.

The curtain rolled itself away,
It went I don't know where,
But, oh, that country just beyond,
I do wish we lived there!

The mountain peaks more jagged rise,
Grass grows more green than here;
The people there have redder cheeks,
And clothes more gay and queer.

They laugh and smile, but not the same,
Exactly as we do,
And if they ever have to cry
Their tears are different, too--

More shiny, somehow, and more sad,
You hold your breath to see
If everything will come out right
And they'll live happily;

If Pierrot will kiss Pierrette
Beneath an orange moon,
And Harlequin and Columbine
Outwit old Pantaloon.

You know they will, they alwazys do,
But still, your heart must beat,
And you must pray they will be saved,
And tremble in your seat.

And then it's over and they bow
And edged aabout with light,
The curtain rattles down  and shuts
Them every one from sight.

It's strange to find the afternoon
Still bright outside the door,
And all the people hurrying by
the way they were before!