Lyrics of “To Precise Art”
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlet from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’the slushy sand
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part, in every part
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joy and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part, in every part
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindless in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly;
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoestring, in whose tie
I see a wild civility –
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part, in every part
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part, in every part
The original lines from Robert Browning in “Meeting at Night” and Robert Harrick in “Delight of Disorder”
Meeting at Night
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlet from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’the slushy sand
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joy and fears,
Thanthe two hearts beating each to each!
Delight of Disorder
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindless in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly;
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoestring, in whose tie
I see a wild civility –
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part