"_Never was nobler image made on earth,
Than this that I have fashioned of my clay.
And I, of mine own skill, did fashion it,--
I--from this lump of clay_."

The Master, looking out on Pots and Men,
Heard his vain boasting, smiled at that he said.
"_The clay is Mine, and I the Potter made,
As I made all things,--stars, and clay, and men.
In what doth this man overpass the rest?
--Be thou as other men_!"

He touched the Image,--and it fell to dust,
He touched the Potter,--he to dust did fall.
Gently the Master,--"_I did make them all,--
All things and men, heaven's glories, and the dust.
Who with Me works shall quicken death itself,
Without Me--dust is dust_."




NIGHTFALL


Fold up the tent!
The sun is in the West.
To-morrow my untented soul will range
Among the blest.
And I am well content,