William Wordsworth

The Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci, in the Refectory of the Convent of Maria della Grazia—Milan

Tho' searching damps and many an envious flaw Have marred this Work, the calm ethereal grace, The love deep-seated in the Saviour's face, The mercy, goodness, have not failed to awe The Elements; as they do melt and thaw The heart of the Beholder- and erase (At least for one rapt moment) every trace Of disobedience to the primal law. The annunciation of the dreadful truth Made to the Twelve, survives: lips, forehead, cheek, And hand reposing on the board in ruth Of what it utters, while the unguilty seek Unquestionable meanings, still bespeak A labour worthy of eternal youth!