Poem by Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta

Durand

Upon his canvas Nature starts to life,
  Clear waters flow, majestic trees arise, --
The earth and air with beauty's shapes are rife,
  And over all there bend his glorious skies.

Yes, this is Nature -- living, breathing, warm,
  Ere yet her face the blight and storm have crossed;
Yes, this is Nature, in that radiant form
  She wore of old, ere Paradise was lost.

1. To Elizabeth Barrett Browning
2. On Seeing the Ivory Statue of Christ
3. A Thought by the Sea-Shore
4. Memory
5. Evening Hymn

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