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...CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LAMP OF LIFE by AMY LOWELL DRAW THE SWORD, O REPUBLIC by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE AWAKENING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BERENICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NEIGHBORS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |