Were I a Skilful Painter + 

Were I a skilful painter, + 

My pencil, not my pen, + 

Should try to teach thee hope and fear, + 

And who would blame me then?⁠— + 

Fear of the tide of darkness + 

That floweth fast behind, + 

And hope to make thee journey on + 

In the journey of the mind. + 

Were I a skilful painter, + 

What should I paint for thee?⁠— + 

A tiny spring-bud peeping out + 

From a withered wintry tree; + 

The warm blue sky of summer + 

O’er jagged ice and snow, + 

And water hurrying gladsome out + 

From a cavern down below; + 

The dim light of a beacon + 

Upon a stormy sea, + 

Where a lonely ship to windward beats + 

For life and liberty; + 

A watery sun-ray gleaming + 

Athwart a sullen cloud + 

And falling on some grassy flower + 

The rain had earthward bowed; + 

Morn peeping o’er a mountain, + 

In ambush for the dark, + 

And a traveller in the vale below + 

Rejoicing like a lark; + 

A taper nearly vanished + 

Amid the dawning gray, + 

And a maiden lifting up her head, + 

And lo, the coming day! + 

I am no skilful painter; + 

Let who will blame me then + 

That I would teach thee hope and fear + 

With my plain-talking pen!⁠— + 

Fear of the tide of darkness + 

That floweth fast behind, + 

And hope to make thee journey on + 

In the journey of the mind. + 