Works of 'Art
That cool, wide world where even shadows are Ordered and relegated to .a shape Not too intrusive and yet not too spare. How easy it has seemed to wander deep Into this world and find a shelter there.
Yet always it surprises. Nervous hands Which make the first rough sketch in any art, Leave their own tension and the statue stands, The poem lies with trouble at its heart.m And every fashioned object makes demands Though we feel uncommitted at the start.
Yeats said that gaiety explained it all, That Hamlet, Lear were gay, and so are we. He did not look back to a happy Fall Where man stood lost, ashamed beneath a tree. There was no art within that garden wall Until we chose our dangerous liberty.
And now all making has the bitter-sweet Taste of frustration yet of something done. want ant more order than we ever meet. n. And art keeps driving us most hopefully o Yet coolness is derived from all that heat, And shadows draw attention to the sun.
ELIZABETH JENNINGS
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