[Lyric] XI. To a Modern Painter (Florence Churchill Casebeer)

If from the chaos in the picture's frame,
There finally emerge a figure fair,
It seems a miracle the brush must dare
If the creator seek for modern fame.
Perhaps only an initiate dare name
These half real beings,--puppets that seem to stare
Out through the maze and wait for those who care
Enough to recognize them without blame.
So often seems the picture of our day,
A mass of unrelated forms and light,
And if there be a few who see it real,
Who sense the revelation and dare say
"There moves a figure to our deepening sight,"
From that admission, Truth may make its seal.