Each life conceived since birth of man, Within each sphere an artist be, With brush or pen or labor's hand Or low or fair or high degree. Hold back the curtain, Oh Master, I've loitered so long at thy feet; Day follows day so much faster, My work I may never complete. I've sketched so long at the easel, Life's characters studied with care, Comparing the good with the evil, The stormy and ways that are fair. So many by-paths to travel; So many lilt songs in review; Now to my tasks without cavil, My long delayed duties pursue. Now that my stroke is more certain, My pictures of life are more true, Oh Master, hold back the curtain, So many things yet would I do. Withold the curtain, Oh Master, The veil of life's mortal abode: Day follows day so much faster For us, near the end of the road. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MEMORY by HAYDEN CARRUTH FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL FRANCIS II, KING OF NAPLES; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. CHARLES BLISS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |