A Piece of Clay
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it one day.
And as my fingers pressed it, still
It moved and yielded to my will.
I came again when days were past:
The bit of clay was hard at last.
The form I gave it still it bore,
And I could fashion it no more!
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently pressed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child's soft and yielding heart.
I came again when years had gone;
It was a man I looked upon.
He still that early impression bore,
And I could fashion it no more.
Author unknown |
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