----------

I TOOK a piece of plastic clay

And idly fashioned it one day;

And as my fingers pressed it still

It bent and yielded to my will.

I came again when days were past,

The bit of clay was hard at last;

My early impress still it bore

And I could change its form no more.

And gently formed it day by day;

Molding with parental art

A young boy's soft and yielding heart,

In time his tender years were gone,

It was a man I looked upon;

My early impress still he bore

And I could change him nevermore!

*****************************

↑ (Return to Calendar) ↑