I ply with all the cunning of my art This little thing, and with consummate care I fashion it -- so that when I depart, Those who come after me shall find it fair And beautiful. It must be free of flaws -- Pointing no laborings of weary hands; And there must be no flouting of the laws Of beauty -- as the artist understands. Through passion, yearnings infinite -- yet dumb -- I lift you from the depths of my own mind And gild you with my soul's white heat to plumb The souls of future men. I leave behind This thing that in return this solace gives: "He who creates true beauty ever lives." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT by JONATHAN SWIFT AS THE TEAM'S HEAD BRASS by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS VERSAILLES (1784) by STOPFORD AUGUSTUS BROOKE FIFTY YEARS SPENT by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT |