The Dew-Kissed Bloom of Will
Shall every dawn a gentle sculptor be,
That moulds the clay of thought with softest art?
As yonder flower, bathed in crystal sea.
Doth catch the light and teach the drooping heart.
From golden vein where dewdrops slowly trace
Their shinning path along the petal's curve ,
So doth the mind, in quiet, sacred space,
Absorb the strength that daily trials serve.
Teach it to trust the root that grips the earth,
Though tempests rage and shadows cloak the sky;
For in the bloom that drinks the morning's birth,
Lies power born where fragile droplets lie.
Thus shape thy soul as dawn's own hand designs--
Believe thine own bright strength , and claim what shines.
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