We deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone,

Which spake in Greek simplicity of thought,

And in the forms of gods and heroes wrought

Eternal beauty from the sculptured stone, —

A higher charm than modern culture won

With all the wealth of metaphysic lore,

Gifted to analyze, dissect, explore.

A many-colored light flows from one sun;

Art, ’neath its beams, a motley thread has spun;

The prism modifies the perfect day;

But thou hast known such mediums to shun,

And cast once more on life a pure, white ray.

Absorbed in the creations of thy mind,

Forgetting daily self, my truest self I find.

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