I got inspiration from the odes of the poet Arthur O'Shaughnessy and as a result I drew these illustrations
We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world"s great cities,
And out of fabulous story
We fashion an empire"s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song"s measure
Can trample an empire down.
We build up the world"s great cities,
And out of fabulous story
We fashion an empire"s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song"s measure
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing.
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o"erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world"s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing.
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o"erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world"s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
A breath of our inspiration,
Is the life of each generation.
A wondrous thing of our dreaming,
Unearthly, impossible seeming -
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.
Is the life of each generation.
A wondrous thing of our dreaming,
Unearthly, impossible seeming -
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.
They had no vision amazing
Of the goodly house they are raising.
They had no divine foreshowing
Of the land to which they are going;
But on one man"s soul it hath broke,
A light that doth not depart
And his look, or a world ye hath spoken,
Wrought flame in another man"s heart.
Of the goodly house they are raising.
They had no divine foreshowing
Of the land to which they are going;
But on one man"s soul it hath broke,
A light that doth not depart
And his look, or a world ye hath spoken,
Wrought flame in another man"s heart.
And therefore today is thrilling,
With a past day"s late fulfilling.
And multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And scorning the dream of tomorrow,
Are beginning to pass, as they may,
In the world, for it"s joy or it"s sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.
With a past day"s late fulfilling.
And multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And scorning the dream of tomorrow,
Are beginning to pass, as they may,
In the world, for it"s joy or it"s sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.
But we, with our dreaming and singing,
Ceaseless and sorrow less we !
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing;
O men ! It must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A little apart from ye.
Ceaseless and sorrow less we !
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing;
O men ! It must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A little apart from ye.
For we are afar with the dawning
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry -
How, spite of your human scoring,
Once more God"s future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry -
How, spite of your human scoring,
Once more God"s future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.
Great hail ! We cry to the comers
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song"s new numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song"s new numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.
From "Music and Moonlight", 1874.
