Art

At her light touch. behold a voice proceeds
Out of all things to chide our sordid deeds;
A beauty breaks, a beauty ever strange,
The Changeless that is back of all the change.
Lightly it comes as when a rose would be—
Takes feature yet remains a mystery.

Edwin Markham.
In "Lincoln and other Poems."

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Among the Churches
November 27, 1902
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