Hi Don,
I did not know your friend but something odd has come over me in the last half hour.
This is my way of honoring what little bond I (we) might have had.
Hope you will share with your friends.
Think I'll take a walk down by the fog laden river now.
Tom
When Earth's last picture is painted and the
tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colors have faded, and the
youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie
down for an eon or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us
to work anew!
And those who were good shall be happy: they
shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with
brushes of comet's hair;
They shall find real saints to draw from--
Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting and never
be tired at all!
And only the Master shall praise us, and only
the Master shall blame;
And no one shall work for money, and no one
shall work for fame;
But each to the joy of the working, and each,
in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of
Things as They Are!
Rudyard Kipling |
