(1901) by William Croswell Doane

Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy With his marble block, before him And his face lit up, with a smile of joy, As an angel dream passed o’er him. He carved the dream, on that shapeless stone, With many a sharp incision; With heaven’s own light, the sculpture shone He had caught that angel vision. Sculptors of life are we, as we stand, With our lives uncarved before us, Waiting the time, when at God’s command, Our life-dream shall pass o’er us: If we carve it then on the yielding stone, With many a sharp incision, Its heavenly beauty shall be our own, Our lives, that angel vision.