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...SONNET: 21. TO CYRIACK SKINNER by JOHN MILTON MISPLACED SYMPATHY by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS AN ARMOURY by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE MUCKLE-MOU'D MEG by JAMES BALLANTYNE CANADA by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD NATALITIUM: MARTIJ 13, 1645 by JOSEPH BEAUMONT EMPTY ROOM by NATHANIEL ANKETELL BENSON |