THE shapeless block of marble, 

Beneath the sculptor's hand, 

Becomes a thing of beauty 

To gladden all the land.

The daubed and dingy canvas, 

Beneath the painter's brush,

Reflects the glow of heaven,

And the forest's answering blush.

And words of common echo,

Beneath the poet's pen, 

Receive a life-power mighty

To stir the hearts of men.

But a higher art and nobler 

He masters it who would 

Is overcoming evil

By oft returning good.

Ladies' Repository