Poem by Christopher Pearse Cranch

The Photograph

PHOEBUS Apollo, from Olympus driven,
Lived at Admetus, tending herds and flocks:
And strolling o'er the pastures and the rocks
He found his life much duller than in Heaven.
For he had left his bow, his songs, his lyre,
His divinations and his healing skill,
And as a serf obeyed his master's will.
One day a new thought waked an old desire.
He took to painting, with his colors seven,
The sheep, the cows, the faces of the swains,
All shapes and hues of forests and on plains.
These old sun-pictures all are lost, or given
Away among the god. Man owns but half
The Sun-god's secret--in the Photograph.

1. A Word to Philosophers
2. Sonnet 39. Bayard Taylor
3. In the Forest of Fontainebleau
4. The Pines and the Sea
5. Sonnet 16. The Microscope

Thomas Hardy The Photograph ("The flame crept up the portrait line by line")

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