What is poetry? Is it a mosaic 
Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought 
Into a pattern? Rather glass that's taught 
By patient labor any hue to take 
And glowing with a sumptuous splendor, make 
Beauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught, 
Transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraught 
With storied meaning for religion's sake. 


This poem is in the public domain. 

About this Poem

From A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass (Houghton Mifflin Company, 1912).