24
The Sculptor's Reverie.
All the visions of my day-dreams,
All the fancies of life's way,
Stood before me, mute assembly,
Solemn group in stark array.
All the fancies of life's way,
Stood before me, mute assembly,
Solemn group in stark array.
There they stood, thought's solemn sculptures,
No more floating fancies free,
But embodied truths for ever,
Statues through eternity!
No more floating fancies free,
But embodied truths for ever,
Statues through eternity!
Chiselled by a subtle sculptor,
In that studio called the brain,
In that chamber of deep mysteries,
Whose artisans are joy and pain.
In that studio called the brain,
In that chamber of deep mysteries,
Whose artisans are joy and pain.
Some were garlanded with roses,
Some with violet white and blue,
Some with ivy steadfast-clinging,
While the feet of friends I knew.
Some with violet white and blue,
Some with ivy steadfast-clinging,
While the feet of friends I knew.
Little feet had been before me,
Footprints lost in dewy grass,
And I heard sweet children's voices,
Softly singing, "Let him pass!"
Footprints lost in dewy grass,
And I heard sweet children's voices,
Softly singing, "Let him pass!"
