As The Twig Is Bent I took a piece of earthen clay               And gently fashioned it one day; And as my fingers pressed it still               Is shaped and yielded to my will. I returned again when day was passed; That piece of clay was hard and fast. It still that early imprint wore, And I could change it nevermore. I took a piece of living clay and gently formed it day by day. I molded with all my power and art A young child's soft and yielding heart. I returned again when days were gone; He was a man, I looked upon. He still that early imprint wore, And I could change him nevermore. - Author Unknown