The Victor
What are my fairest songs beside thee real and queenly?
What is the realm of Art wherethrough men move serenely
For many and many a year
Compared to thee?—Art fails beside thee and before thee:
And, if men praise my work, I hear not, but adore thee;
My tenderest words reach not thy beauty, dear.
The tenderest words or man, be he ten times inspired,
Would fail to render thee, to touch the height desired:
Art faints before thy gaze.
When all my work had failed, God's conquering hand, thee moulding,
Set thee before the world, that every heart, beholding
My work contemned, the Victor's work might praise.
What is the realm of Art wherethrough men move serenely
For many and many a year
Compared to thee?—Art fails beside thee and before thee:
And, if men praise my work, I hear not, but adore thee;
My tenderest words reach not thy beauty, dear.
The tenderest words or man, be he ten times inspired,
Would fail to render thee, to touch the height desired:
Art faints before thy gaze.
When all my work had failed, God's conquering hand, thee moulding,
Set thee before the world, that every heart, beholding
My work contemned, the Victor's work might praise.
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