Where is hidden
The blue-huéd arch'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry,
The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon - snowflakéd and aery mountains,
In which the barebreastéd maidens dance to the lay o' midsummer,
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vainglore.

O Canvas!, wherefore canst thou these images not allow? -
I deem a projection of my Theatre they should be! -
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o' mine -
What is this unforseen that not enjoineth light shades to be skillfully painted?