Loving deeply, without fear,
Your incomparable self, my dear,
Do not rush to boast too soon—
Go and paint from life; attune.
Morning, evening, night as well,
In the frost or rainy spell,
Spare no effort, strength, or sweat—
There’s a chance that you might yet,
If you’re not an utter fool,
Lose conceit and prideful rule.
And before all honest folk,
In the meadow or the grove,
You will bow, with humbled grace,
To nature’s everlasting face!