Epilogue
Those blessd structures, plot and rhyme why are they no help to me now I want to make something imagined, not recalled? I hear the noise of my own voice: The painter's vision is not a lens, it trembles to caress the light. But sometimes everything I write with the threadbare art of my eye seems a snapshot, lurid, rapid, garish, grouped, heightened from life, yet paralyzed by fact. All's misalliance. Yet why not say what happened? Pray for the grace of accuracy Vermeer gave to the sun's illumination stealing like the tide across a map to his girl solid with yearning. We are poor passing facts, warned by that to give each figure in the photograph his living name.
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"Those blessd structures, plot and rhyme..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Robert Lowell delivers a powerful performance in "Epilogue"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...