Inscription

The pencil lingers o'er a page so white!
Falters the chisel when the hand would smite
Even for beauty, in the block so bright.

The hand may mold; the marble does its part
Clad in the whiteness, lo! enkindled Art
Finds a new beauty nestling at her heart.

Soft be the touch upon this tablet's snow
Around whose verge the violet shall blow,
And Love keep vigil while the lilies grow.
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