The Statue

A granite rock in the mountain side     Gazed on the world and was satisfied.     It watched the centuries come and go.     It welcomed the sunlight, yet loved the snow.     It grieved when the forest was forced to fall,     Yet joyed when steeples rose, white and tall,     In the valley below it, and thrilled to hear     The voice of the great town roaring near.     When the mountain stream from its idle play     Was caught by the mill wheel and borne away     And trained to labour, the grey rock mused     'Trees and verdure and stream are used     By Man the Master; but I remain     Friend of the mountain, and star, and plain,     Unchanged forever by God's decree,     While passing centuries bow to me.'     Then all unwarned, with a mighty shock     Out of the mountain was wrenched the rock.     Bruised and battered and broken in heart,     It was carried away to the common mart,     Wrecked and ruined in piece and pride.     'Oh, God is cruel,' the granite cried,     'Comrade of mountains, of stars the friend,     By all deserted, how sad my end.'     A dreaming sculptor in passing by     Gazed at the granite with thoughtful eye.     Then stirred with a purpose supremely grand     He bade his dream in the rock expand.     And lo! from the broken and shapeless mass     That grieved and doubted, it came to pass     That a glorious statue of priceless worth     And infinite beauty, adorned the earth.