From the Grand Forks Daily Herald, October 3, 1914. By J. A. Edgerton.
The world contains many an artist,
Who knows not the technique of art;
Who knows not the tricks of the rhymer,
And yet is a poet at heart;
Who knows not the use of the chisel,
Nor the deftness of eye or of hand,
But whose spirit is filled with a longing
He never can quite understand.
There are painters who never touch canvas,
Musicians who ever are still,
Who have not the gift of expression,
Lack adequate training and skill.
There are men with the dreams of the masters
Who never are known unto fame,
Whose spirits are filled with a music
And beauty they never can name.
There are orators doomed to be silent,
And singers who never are heard;
There are actors untried and unnoted,
Who with the grand passions are stirred;
There are millions who struggle unconscious
Of wonderful gifts they express,
Whose spirits are ravished by glimpses
Of thoughts they can never express.
There are poems unsung and unspoken,
Transcending the limits of art;
There are visions unpainted that linger
In the innermost realms of the heart;
There are writers that never have written
And sculptors who delve not in stone;
There are spirits who thrill with a message
Yet strive on in silence alone.
Maybe there’s fruit and an answer
Somewhere in the regions of bliss;
At last they may find their lost visions,
At last they may reach to the goal,
The ones who fall short of expression
And yet who are artists in soul.