Hugh Cuthbert - The Statue of Sorrow lyrics

"Come, build me a statue all of snow!" Said the Medici, prince and patron of Art, And Michael Angelo, aflame at heart With noble shame to cast his visions so, In fleeting form for pride's caprices, low: His Muse all mutinous humbled to her part, And bade a Seraph from the snow out-start. He came--and perished in the noon-day glow. Great world! proud patron of th' aspiring mind-- Dispenser of rewards--thou holdest still In thrall, alas! the genius of mankind. Exact full toll, but not that he fulfil His soul in vanities; nay, rather find Best worth in workers who transcend thy will.