The monument outlasting bronze was promised well by bards of old.

They bring back light on their faces; But they cannot bring back to me What the lilies say to the roses, Or the songs of the butterflies be.

Our hope is less to last through Art than deeper searching of the heart, than broader range of uttered truth.

I may not enter the garden, Though I know the road thereto; And morn by morn to the gateway I see the children go.