Unity Author unknown I dreamt I stood in a studio And watched two sculptors there. The clay they used was a young child's mind And they fashioned it with care. One was a teacher - the tools he used Were books, music and art. The other, a parent, worked with a guiding hand And a gentle loving heart. Day after day, the teacher toiled With touch that was deft and sure. While the parent labored by his side And polished and smoothed it o'er. And when at last, their task was done They were proud of what they'd wrought. For the things they had molded into the child Could neither be sold nor bought. And each agreed they would have failed If each had worked alone. For behind the teacher stood the school And behind the parent stood the home. To Every Parent There are little eyes upon you, And they are watching night and day; There are little ears that quickly take In every word you say; There are little hands all eager to do Everthing you do, And a little child who's dreaming of The day he'll be like you. You're the little child's idol, You're the wisest of the wise, In his little mind about you, No suspicions ever rise; He believes in you devoutly, Holds all you say and do; He will say and do in your way when He's grown up to be like you. There's a wide eyed little child who Believes you're always right, And his ears are always open and he Watches day and night; You are setting an example Everyday in all you do For the little child who's waiting To grow up to be like you. author unknown