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...IF HE SHOULD COME by EDWIN MARKHAM THE SONG OF THE SHEPHERDS by EDWIN MARKHAM TO A FRIEND IN THE MAKING by MARIANNE MOORE OCTAVES: 7 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON HARRISON STREET COURT by CARL SANDBURG ON AN UNFINISHED STATUE BY MICHAEL ANGELO by GEORGE SANTAYANA |