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Borrower.
| A BORROWER.
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| AN ANSWER TO MR. BOURDILLON.
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While Time, the cunning, mars
Surely all loveliness.
The sculptor's chisel mars
The marble's spotless snow;
But by those cruel scars
New loveliness doth grow.
A form of ideal grace
Slept in the smooth white stone;
The steel's relentless-trace,
That nobler charm has won.
Time's chisels, hard and stern,
May youthful beauty slay;
But beauty they return
More perfect every way.
We cared not for the stone,
Nor for its faultless white;
But on the statue grown,
We gaze in fixed delight.
W. P. A..
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