Excerpt from Poems
The scroll was old and gray The dust Of time had gathered white Chill Above the touches of the worker's Skill, And hid their Charm away.
The many passed it by 3 For no sweet curve of dainty face or form, No gleam of light, or ﬂash of color warm, Held back the careless eye.
But when the artist came, With eye that saw beyond the Charm of sense, He seemed to catch a sense of power intense That filled the dusky frame.
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