Every artist likes to think his work supreme,
At least such is every artist's dream.
He wants to be accorded world wide esteem;
In all his work it is his basic theme.
To have his work live on and on;
His praises sung long after he has gone;
From every critic he seeks a benison;
In the book of time he wants his colophon.
The artist they say is hard to understand;
They fail to realize how his thoughts expand
Beyond the ideas and concepts near at hand;
He today envisions the future land.
The artist really is no different from you and me;
Once you get to know him it's plain enough to see;
However he wants recognition to some degree.
It gives him a feeling of inner jubilee.
The artist today is the architect of tomorrow;
His blue print includes a world without sorrow,
Go to him, dare seek and ask to borrow
His plan of life. Will you, yes or no?
The artist is an actor on this earthly stage;
It is he who by his acts presage
The coming of the future age.
He is the teacher; we are merely pupilage.
'Tis not surprising that an artist
Should be known as an egoist.
It gives him confidence to persist
In living the life of a humanist.
Every artist must think his work supreme;
It is the substantiation of his dream.
The artist even has a right to self-esteem;
It gives him ambition to carry out his theme.