An artist is what is call'd the self the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of tomorrow? O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still passionless it quivereth Minding not that my hands are more than apt; My Muse,
Where is hidden The blue-hued arch'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon - snowflaked and aery mountains, In which the barebreasted maidens dance to the lay o'midsummer, Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vaingfore.
O Canvas! wherefore canst thou these images not allow? - I deem a projection of my Theatre they sould be! - Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o'mine - What is this unforeseen that not enjoyneth light shades to be skillfully painted?
The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds Unadorned the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood, The maidens chained and whipped within a dreary dungeon - And, fo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave; "The Devil is as Black as He Painteth" - O Canvas! wherefore?...
Recently we've been receiving e-mails in regard to download Theatre Of Tragedy MP3 files. We do not distribute nor produce MP3 files. If you wish to download free MP3s on the internet we highly urge you to visit any MP3 download site and download MP3s which will help the music industry tremendously.