The Glory That Slumbered In The Granite Rock

A granite rock on the mountain side
Gazed on the world and was satisfied;
It watched the centuries come and go--
It welcomed the sunlight, and loved the snow,
It grieved when the forest was forced to fall,
But smiled when the 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 labor, the gray rock mused:
"Tree 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 heavy shock
Down from the mountain was wrenched the rock.
Bruised and battered and broken in heart,
He was carried away to a common mart.
Wrecked and ruined in peace and pride,
"Oh, God is cruel!" the granite cried;
"Comrade of Mountain, of Star the friend--
By all deserted--how sad my end!"
A dreaming sculptor, in passing by,
Gazed on the granite with thoughtful eye;
Then, stirred with a purpose supreme and 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 infinite worth--
A statue of LINCOLN--adorned the earth.