  The joy is in the making. While we sow Our dream is wonderful with flowers, we name The purlieus of our garden and the aim Is worth the effort, yet we cannot know The garden will be just a garden, so The dream is heaven. This way mothers frame The child's high dedication to its fame, Repaid for all reality may show. God knows this, so He lets us have the best, The vast anticipation, rugged man Joys in the struggle, triumphs over throes, Vanquished a thousand times he still finds zest In hope and all his pleasure in a plan To be fulfilled at length in Heaven?—who knows. |
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