The Tomb of Bizzos

O'er Bizzos, son of Pardos, when he died,
A skillful builder reared a noble tomb,
Toiling until it marked the very bloom
Of his rich art, —a work that has defied
For years unnumbered time's relentless tide.
Its rare perfection lifts the pall of gloom
From death, and we forget the pallid plume
On dome and door, the unknown sculptor's pride.

Bizzos, the son of Pardos! — worthy man, —
So the inscription o'er the portal shows;
And yet, — and yet, — ah, curious irony
That he, and not the marvellous artisan
Whose genius through each line of marble glows,
Should have achieved to immortality!