Poem January 24, 1901 Issue

The Diamond Cutter

Selected

As sires and sons, through lines of long descent,
At weary labor sit in joyless lands,
With piercing, straining eyes, and steady hands,
With honesty which is like sacrament,
With patience which defies all accident,
And, on the whirling disk, with shining sands
Of diamond, shape the diamond till it stands
At last a perfect gem, for which are spent
Whole kingdoms, that some boastful king may call
The stone his own,—

So crystal truths are wrought,
Patient, unnumbred, and unnoted all
As autumn leaves, whole generations fall
To shape and polish one immortal thought,
Which some chance king will think that he has bought.

Selected.

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