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
