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 passed, The bit of clay was hard at last, The form I gave it, still it bore, But I could change that form no more. Then I took a piece of @3living@1 clay And gently formed it, day by day And molded with my power and art, A young child's soft and yielding heart. I came again when years were gone, It was a @3man@1 I looked upon. He still that early impress bore, And I could change it, nevermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOON by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR WALT WHITMAN by DAVID IGNATOW LET ME NOT HATE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SHALL I SAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO OUR MOCKING-BIRD; DIED OF A CAT, MAY, 1878 by SIDNEY LANIER |