Progress
Dublin Core
Title
Progress
Subject
Progress
Creator
[Unknown]
Source
http://addison.vt.edu/record=b1775388~S1
Publisher
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University
Date
May, 1883
Contributor
Devon Keyes, Libby Howe
Rights
Permission to publish images from The Gray Jacket must be obtained from Special Collections, Virginia Tech.
Format
Text
Language
English
Type
Poem
Identifier
LD5655.V8 L4, ser.1, v.2, no.5 (May 1883), p.1
Coverage
none
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
PROGRESS
Steadily, steadily, step by step.
Up the venturious builders go;
Carefully placing stone on stone-
Thus the loftiest temples grow.
Patiently, patiently, day by day;
The artist toils at his task alway;
Touching it here and tinting it there,
Giving it ever with infinite care
A line more soft or a hue more fair;
Till, little by little, the picture grows.
And at last the cold, dull canvass [sic] glows,
With life and beauty, and forms of grace.
That evermore in the world have place.
Thus with the poet-hour by hour
He listens to catch the fairy chimes
That ring in his soul then; with magic power
He weaves their melody into his rymes [sic].
Slowly, carefully, word by word,
Line by line, and thought by thought,
Fashions the golden tissues of song-
And thus are immortal anthems wrought.
Every wise observer knows
Every watchful gazer sees
Nothing grand or beautiful grows,
Save by gradual, slow degrees;
Ye who tell with a purpose high
And fondly the proud result await.
Murmur not as the hours go by,
That the season is long-the harvest is late.
Remember that brotherhood, strong and true,
Builders and artists, and bards sublime.
Who lived in the past and worked like you.
Worked and waited a wearisome time-
Dark and cheerless and long their night,
Yet they patiently toiled at the task begun
Till, lo! thro the clouds broke that morning light
Which shines on the soul when success is won.
-The Quiver.
Steadily, steadily, step by step.
Up the venturious builders go;
Carefully placing stone on stone-
Thus the loftiest temples grow.
Patiently, patiently, day by day;
The artist toils at his task alway;
Touching it here and tinting it there,
Giving it ever with infinite care
A line more soft or a hue more fair;
Till, little by little, the picture grows.
And at last the cold, dull canvass [sic] glows,
With life and beauty, and forms of grace.
That evermore in the world have place.
Thus with the poet-hour by hour
He listens to catch the fairy chimes
That ring in his soul then; with magic power
He weaves their melody into his rymes [sic].
Slowly, carefully, word by word,
Line by line, and thought by thought,
Fashions the golden tissues of song-
And thus are immortal anthems wrought.
Every wise observer knows
Every watchful gazer sees
Nothing grand or beautiful grows,
Save by gradual, slow degrees;
Ye who tell with a purpose high
And fondly the proud result await.
Murmur not as the hours go by,
That the season is long-the harvest is late.
Remember that brotherhood, strong and true,
Builders and artists, and bards sublime.
Who lived in the past and worked like you.
Worked and waited a wearisome time-
Dark and cheerless and long their night,
Yet they patiently toiled at the task begun
Till, lo! thro the clouds broke that morning light
Which shines on the soul when success is won.
-The Quiver.
