Explore "The Artist" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ In story books, when I was very young, / I knew you first, one of the Fairy Race; / And then it was your picture took its place, / Framed in with love's deep gold, and draped and hung / High in my heart's red room: no song was sung, / No tale of passion told, I did not grace / With your associated form and face, / And intimated charm of touch and tongue. / As years went on you grew to more and more, / Until each thing, symbolic to my heart / Of beauty, -- such as honor, truth, and fame, -- / Within the studio of my soul's thought wore / Your lineaments, whom I, with all my art, / Strove to embody and to give a name.