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, Its
early impress still it bore, But I could change the 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 boy's soft and yielding heart.

I came again when years were gone, It was a man I looked upon, My early
impress still he bore, And I could change him nevermore.

nice...