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E. K. WHITAKER, BAR HARBOR.

T

HE

tho~ht

conceived In the artist's mind ontN" realization find Beneath his touch; that which exists In brain-stuft' only, thru him persists In enduring stone, in solid i orm, Resisting the teeth of wind and storm. But for his fixing. congealintl art, These fabrics of dreams wou ld . faU apart. Fancy's flowers would fade away, The dreamer Il,'One, his work decay. Stone upon stone, his buildings lise, Till the splendid whole doth greet our eyes. Type of the patient workman, be, ' Who sees, not what is, but is to be. To all who would rise, this word he brings, "Despise not the day of little things." ~Iust

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