As picture frame in gallery

Doth those arches seem to me,

Or window without glass opaque

Beg the viewer view to take,

While on its sill lies languid man

Restive as the wakeful can,

Inhaling visage true and pure

Of artwork man’s brush can’t endure,

Which some presume from God’s quill flown,

Nature being His mind shown,

Though others say that the creature

Unmakes the maker in every feature,

As if it were all by God begot

In manner seeming it was not,

To confute the mind in strange intention,

Being, at once, great and grave invention,

And why it is with God’s design

There is so much that is malign,

Which in the same malignancy

Terrified man did conjure Thee,

Seeing the flame god in the hill

Wherefrom the fire liked to spill,

Or the lord of water in the wave

That erased the shack of the knave;

Those Godly signs and evidence

We’ve explicated ever since

With causes unneeded of god

The clergyman does not applaud;

But, if the breeze is not god’s breath,

Which moves the trees and stifles death,

Would you still not but be

Looking upon that framéd tree?

The ruined arches in their place,

Constructed for god’s holy grace,

May not evoke the art of god

But something greater to applaud,

And, even if haphazardly,

Insist that greatness us to see

The greatest ever deity.

-Poyetikos