He wrought with patience long and weary years
Upon his masterpiece, entitled “Fate,”
And dreamed sweet dreams, the while his crust he ate,
And gave his work his soul, his strength, and tears.
His task complete at last, he had no fears
The world would not pronounce his genius great,
But poor, unknown—pray, what could he create?
The mad...
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He wrought with patience long and weary years
Upon his masterpiece, entitled “Fate,”
And dreamed sweet dreams, the while his crust he ate,
And gave his work his soul, his strength, and tears.
His task complete at last, he had no fears
The world would not pronounce his genius great,
But poor, unknown—pray, what could he create?
The mad...