As the sculptor who, with his tool
Producing raindrop tones on marble bone-phones,
Does mold the stone-jewel to his rule
Ee’n while he, for his home, his stone-craft hones;
Ee’n so ought we, aft’r truth we see
Proven through argument or through common sense,
To place truth indeed eternally
In our whole selves through repetitions in tens.
As a lib’ry full and beautiful
Built of fighting, flaming goods (not brick or wood
They that fall), with knowledge on all walls,
Enchants and fills the mind (it should) with true good;
Ee’n so Chesterton, the par’dox man,
When read to learn and please very frequently
Can put the mind into a plan
Where truth is seen with ease and all that’s good does please.
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