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| Claude Monet The Artist's Garden at Vétheuil 1881 oil on canvas Norton Simon Museum, Pasadena, California |
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| Claude Monet Water Lilies 1908 oil on canvas Dallas Museum of Art |
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| Claude Monet Tulip Fields at Sassenheim 1886 oil on canvas Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Massachusetts |
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| Claude Monet Japanese Bridge, Giverny ca. 1920-24 oil on canvas Museum of Fine Arts, Houston |
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| Paulus Moreelse Portrait of Anna Ram Strick 1625 oil on canvas Centraal Museum, Utrecht |
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| Paulus Moreelse Portrait of Philips Ram 1625 oil on canvas Centraal Museum, Utrecht |
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| Paulus Moreelse Portrait of Antoine van Hilten 1625 oil on canvas Rhode Island School of Design, Providence |
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| Paulus Moreelse Prometheus ca. 1634-38 oil on canvas Centraal Museum, Utrecht |
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| Robert Motherwell Elegy Study 1954 oil on paper, mounted on board Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto |
-1950-oil-on-board-Art-Gallery-of-Ontario-Toronto.jpg) |
| Robert Motherwell Untitled (Elegy Study) 1950 oil on board Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto |
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| Robert Motherwell Open no. 12 (in Raw Sienna with Gray) 1968 acrylic on canvas Delaware Art Museum, Wilmington |
-in-Orange-1971-acrylic-and-charcoal-on-canvas-Art-Gallery-of-Ontario-Toronto.jpg) |
| Robert Motherwell Open no. 37A: in Orange 1971 acrylic and charcoal on canvas Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto |
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| Caspar Netscher Courtship ca. 1665 oil on canvas Detroit Institute of Arts |
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| Caspar Netscher Portrait of a Widow 1670 oil on canvas Museumslandschaft Hessen Kassel |
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| Caspar Netscher Portrait of physicist Nicolas Hartsoeker ca. 1682 oil on canvas Musée d'Art et d'Histoire de Genève |
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| Caspar Netscher Portrait of Susanna Doublet Huygens 1669 oil on panel Leiden Collection, New York |
from Part Three of The Age of Anxiety
So one by one they plunge into the labyrinthine forest and vanish down solitary paths, with no guide but their sorrows, no companion but their own voices. Their ways cross and recross yet never once do they meet though now and then one catches somewhere not far off a brief snatch of another's song. Thus Quan't voice is heard singing:
A vagrant veteran I,
Discharged with grizzled chin,
Sans youth or use, sans uniform,
A tiger turned an ass.
Then Malin's:
These branches deaf and dumb
Were woeful suitors once;
Mourning unmanned, and moping turned
Their sullen souls to wood.
Then Rosetta's:
My dress is torn, my tears
Are running as I run
Through forests far from father's eye
To look for a true love.
Then Emble's:
My mother wept for me
Who disappeared at play
From home and hope like all who chase
The blue elusive bird.
Now Quant's again:
Through gloomy woods I go
Ex-demigod; the damp
Awakes my wound; I want my tea
But needed am of none.
Now Emble's:
More faint, more far away
The huntsman's social horn
Calls through the cold uncanny woods
And nearer draws the night.
Now Rosetta's:
Dear God, regard thy child;
Repugn or pacify
All furry forms and fangs that lurk
Within this horrid shade.
Now Malin's:
These branches deaf and dumb
Were woeful suitors once;
Mourning unmanned, and moping turned
Their sullen souls to wood.
Then Rosetta's:
My dress is torn, my tears
Are running as I run
Through forests far from father's eye
To look for a true love.
Then Emble's:
My mother wept for me
Who disappeared at play
From home and hope like all who chase
The blue elusive bird.
Now Quant's again:
Through gloomy woods I go
Ex-demigod; the damp
Awakes my wound; I want my tea
But needed am of none.
Now Emble's:
More faint, more far away
The huntsman's social horn
Calls through the cold uncanny woods
And nearer draws the night.
Now Rosetta's:
Dear God, regard thy child;
Repugn or pacify
All furry forms and fangs that lurk
Within this horrid shade.
Now Malin's:
Their given names forgot,
Mere species of despair,
On whims of wind their wills depend,
On temperatures their mood.
And yet once more Quant's:
So, whistling as I walk
Through brake and copse, I keep
A lookout for the Limping One
Who buys abandoned souls.
Mere species of despair,
On whims of wind their wills depend,
On temperatures their mood.
And yet once more Quant's:
So, whistling as I walk
Through brake and copse, I keep
A lookout for the Limping One
Who buys abandoned souls.
– W.H. Auden (1944-46)