Classic Poem

Artist, whose life with rare production teems,
Beneath thy burin how the picture glows!
The painter's work, oft fading as the rose,
Blooms on thy block again, and mirrored seems.
From Raphael's grace to Rembrandt's shadowy gleams,
A sumptuous pageant still thy genius shows,—
The long procession eminent, that goes
Adown the glimmering gallery of Dreams.
Old Dürer would have ta'en thee to his heart:
Thy work—a beacon on the hills of Fame;
Though richly laureled, let our tribute wreathe
Thy brow, O master of the graver's art,
As we, who worship Beauty, place thy name
First among those who make the box-wood breathe.