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The Life of a Teenage Bookworm
Where Books are Born...
Monday, 18 June 2007
The Young Artist
By Mary Arthur
SHE sat among the whisp'ring woods,
With wild flowers at her feet,
And heard from out the glossy leaves
A murmur soft and sweet;
Yet not the music or the balm
Had stirred the lady's thought-
A spell of deeper, fuller power
Had there its magic wrought.
A vision rose before her, bright
As dreams of hope can be,
And wakened to a new delight
Her fancy bold and free:
A dream of fame and glory,
When years of toil were flown,
When all the weariness was past,
And brightness all her own.
"I will win a radiant future!
It shall glow with colors rare,
And the great and noble of the earth
Shall pour their tributes there.
Oh, is it not a glorious gift,
This living, proud desire,
That gladdens with its brilliancy,
And warms me with its fire.
"No wavering doubt shall hold me
From the point I hope to win;
Nor will I need the world's applause
When satisfied within.
I will pass through all the shadows
That cluster round my way,
And only feel the darkness past
When reigns for me the day."
You are a beautiful little artist my sweet girl....
4 July 2007 at 6:47 am
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Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. ~Leo Buscaglia
Teenage book lover. Loves to shop, decorate and chat with friends
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