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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=429752" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rubens' Innocents</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=429752" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IF all those tumbling babes of heaven, <br>Plump cherubim with blown cheeks, <br>Could vault in these warm skies, or leaven <br>Our starry silent mountain-peaks— <br>O painter of chub-faced, shining-thighed <br>Fat Ganymedes of God—what noise <br>Would churn between the clouds and stride <br>Far downward from those rose-mouthed boys! <br>Down to our spires their lusty whooping, <br>Fanfares of Paradise, would speed, <br>Far down to dark-faced clergy stooping <br>Round altars of their doleful creed; <br>And God, whose wings of silver sweep <br>Like metal afire on heaven's rim, <br>Would daze them with a twinkling peep <br>Of those young moon-stained cherubim— <br>Then, for a trice, their skies might sparkle, <br>And some gold ichor splash amid <br>Those most respectable, patriarchal <br>Purveyors of stale pardons, hid <br>Behind their old cathedral closes <br>From this unguessed, unguessable God, <br>Shining before their learned noses <br>Down roads that Peter Rubens trod.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Kenneth+Slessor">Kenneth Slessor</a></strong></div>

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