Bronze (Johnson)/To May Howard Jackson

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TO MAY HOWARD JACKSON—SCULPTOR
You saw the vision in the face of clay,And fixed it through the magic of a handObedient unto the will's command,In forms impervious to Time's decay:Historian of bloods that interplayConfusedly within a cryptic land,You've chiseled, and your work of art shall standTo gem the archives of a better day.
Alone, far from the touch of kindred mind,You've mounted with a grim, determined zeal,Despite environment austere, unkind,Or frozen-fingers clenched to your appeal,You've held the ardor of your first ideal,Robed in a queenly majesty, resigned.
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