Creation’s fount! thou queen of beauty, pure and bright,
With grace and majesty, thy hands impart
A radiance that fills the world with light,
And stirs the deepest secrets of the heart.
Thine eyes, more tender than the morning sky,
Reflect a truth that cannot fade or die,
And in thy gaze, all mysteries are told,
A wealth of wonders more than can be sought or sold.
Thy form, a vision born of heaven’s bliss,
A perfect harmony of love and grace,
Each movement like a soft and fleeting kiss,
Each breath an echo of the sainted place.
Thy colors weave through time, both bright and fair,
Like autumn leaves, caught in the golden air,
And every line thy hand does softly trace
Becomes a story written in thy face.
In thee, O Art, we find a noble soul,
A love that heals, a peace that makes us whole,
Thy presence lifts the burdens of the mind,
And in thy beauty, all our hearts are twined.
For thou, eternal as the stars above,
Art beauty’s form, art love’s own sacred dove,
Thy hand has touched the world with gentle grace,
And left upon it beauty's sweet embrace.
