 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
128
THE OLD IMAGE-MAKER.
Busily toileth, the whole day long,
The image-maker his works among;
His eye from his labor is never away,
And he plies his toil with a silent tongue.
The image-maker his works among;
His eye from his labor is never away,
And he plies his toil with a silent tongue.
Varied and strange his creations appear,
From the gay and bright to the dull and sad;
And every image is moulded here,
As the maker's fancy is gloomy or glad.
From the gay and bright to the dull and sad;
And every image is moulded here,
As the maker's fancy is gloomy or glad.
Here Innocence stands in her holiest form,
Her brow illumed with heaven's own ray;
Here Hope smiles sweetly mid sorrow's storm,
And points the true to a happier day.
Her brow illumed with heaven's own ray;
Here Hope smiles sweetly mid sorrow's storm,
And points the true to a happier day.
And Love appeareth as erst he seemed,
Ere blinded and stifled with sordid dust,
When warm in his ray the young heart beamed,
Unmarred by doubt and undimmed by lust.
Ere blinded and stifled with sordid dust,
When warm in his ray the young heart beamed,
Unmarred by doubt and undimmed by lust.
Here is Youth, with the glow of hopeful pride,
Impatiently waiting for man's estate,
To fling himself on the moving tide,
And sink or swim in the stream of Fate.
Impatiently waiting for man's estate,
To fling himself on the moving tide,
And sink or swim in the stream of Fate.
129
Here is Ambition and early Fame;
Here serpent Sin in many a fold,
With tongue of poison and eye of flame,
And glittering scales of burnished gold.
Here serpent Sin in many a fold,
With tongue of poison and eye of flame,
And glittering scales of burnished gold.
Here Grief is beheld, and her swollen eye
Drops sadly a tear for her darling dead;
How more for the living, who cannot die,
Should those sad tears of Grief be shed!
Drops sadly a tear for her darling dead;
How more for the living, who cannot die,
Should those sad tears of Grief be shed!
Thus ever forms he the sad and bright—
Living again 'neath his master hand;
Leading captive the feeling and sight,
Like the fabled sway of a magic wand.
Living again 'neath his master hand;
Leading captive the feeling and sight,
Like the fabled sway of a magic wand.
That image-maker is Memory true,
Working deep in the minds of men;
And acts and feelings of every hue,
Or pleasant or sad, have life again.
Working deep in the minds of men;
And acts and feelings of every hue,
Or pleasant or sad, have life again.
| Rhymes with reason and without | |