"The Transformation, or the Tool and the Gem" by Eliza R Snow

Art by me

I saw a thing of rudest form,

From mountain's base brought forth -

A useless gem - devoid of charm,

And wrapp'd in cumbrous earth.

Its rough exterior met the eye,

With a repulsive show;

For every charm was forc'd to lie

In buried depths below.

The Sculptor came. I wonder'd when

His pliant tool was brought:

He pass'd it o'er the gem, and then

I mark'd the change it wrought.

Each cumbrance from its surface clear'd -

The gem expos'd to view -

Its nature and its worth appear'd,

Its form expansive grew.

By gentle strokes it was set free -

By softer touch refin'd;

Till beauty, grace, and majesty

Were with its nature join'd.

Its lustre kindled to a blaze -

'Twas Wisdom's lamp begun;

And soon the splendor of its rays

Eclips'd the noon-day sun.

That gem was chain'd in crudeness, till

The Sculptor lent his aid:

I wonder'd at the ready skill

His potent hand display'd.

It was the virtue of his tool,

Of fine, transforming edge;

Which serv'd for pencil, mould, and rule,

For polisher and sledge.

That tool requires a skilful hand -

That gem no chain should bind:

That tool is Education, and

That gem, the Human Mind.