Classic Poem

And this is woman's work! this noble brow,
These “features cast in Nature's finest mould,”
Thy skill evoked from out the damp, dull clay,
To gladden loving hearts as they behold.
Thine is a noble mission, thus to spare
From dark oblivion many a noble head.
The casket whence the priceless gem is gone
May still be dear for memories yet unfled;
And thou art favored thus to shadow forth,
Though dimly as thou thinkest, woman's power,
Her talent, genius, intellectual might,
And holy sympathy, her precious dower.
God mould thy spirit till like him thou art,
And stamp his sacred image on thy heart.