And, as they try some dainty form to mold,
I hear them softly say,
“What shall we make? an apple or a vase?
Some marbles, or a fan?”
One little boy, a smile upon his face,
Says, “I shall make a man.”
Straightway, with lengthened face, he, at his task,
Begins, and ’neath the hands
Unskilful, weak, and yet too proud to ask
For aid, a form expands,