The forms of freedom lie upon the shelves --
But pass most by them in the style stores;
For gone old magnetism -- magic force
No longer hold attraction. Nothing sells
But shapelessness where fountain-fashion dwells --
Where customers of class keep count of scores --
And privileged products only to endorse --
While unaware there be much deeper wells.
In caverns of creation there are clues
Like maps and molds they guide the artist way --
And hold him in the care of classic hands --
And teach him skills of craft he'll ever use --
And give him ink and give him word and clay --
That he may stay to farm these fertile lands.