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 hard at last;
The form I gave it still it bore,
But I could change that form no more.
I took a piece of living clay,
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young student’s soft and yielding heart.
I came again when years were gone;
It was a man I looked upon;
He still that early impress wore,
And I could change him nevermore.
– Author unknown
February 16, 2014 / Frode / 0