For A Statue

Who e’er you are, high beauty,
Your master is much more.
His mind is in your graceful arms,
His will is in your face.
Your posture proud, and light as fire,
Is all that he could e’er desire.
Your sovereign, untouched height, alone
Is near his own soul’s break-less stone.
I wing with you, with him I rise,
Exalted in far cloudless skies!

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