IN the still air the music lies unheard; In the rough marble beauty hides unseen: To make the music and the beauty, needs The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen. Great Master, touch us with thy skilful hand; Let not the music that is in us die! Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor let, Hidden and lost, thy form within us lie! Spare not the stroke! do with us as thou wilt! Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred; Complete thy purpose, that we may become Thy perfect image, thou our God and Lord! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PETER STUYVESANT'S NEW YEAR'S CALL, 1 JAN. 1661 by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN AFTER THE NIGHT by NOUREDDIN ADDIS THE BRAWL by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE WANDERER by MATHILDE BLIND NOT UNDERSTOOD by THOMAS BRACKEN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: TO THE QUEEN OF SERPENTS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |