You saw the vision in the face of clay, And fixed it through the magic of a hand Obedient unto the will's command, In forms impervious to Time's decay: Historian of bloods that interplay Confusedly within a cryptic land, You've chiseled, and your work of art shall stand To gem the archives of a better day. Alone, far from the touch of kindred mind, You've mounted with a grim, determined zeal, Despite environment austere, unkind, Or frozen-fingers clenched to your appeal, You've held the ardor of your first ideal, Robed in a queenly majesty, resigned. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOROUGH: LETTER 22. POOR OF THE BOROUGH. PETER GRIMES by GEORGE CRABBE MORAL ESSAYS: EPISTLE 4. TO RICHARD BOYLE, EARL BURLINGTON by ALEXANDER POPE LAMENT OF THE MASTER ERSKINE by ALEXANDER SCOTT (1520-1590) THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY by WALT WHITMAN ONE PRAYER by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) CONCLUDING VERSES, AFTER RETURNING HOME FROM AN AUTUMNAL MORNING WALK by BERNARD BARTON |