Happy birthday, Angela

Fifty years ago I memorized a poem I had found somewhere. Something about it just reached out and grabbed me. It wasn’t part of a school assignment, and I don’t know the poem’s title or author. Today seemed like a good time to put it in my blog.


A builder builded a temple;
He wrought it with grace and skill; --
Pillars and groins and arches
All fashioned to work his will;
Men said when they saw its beauty,
“It shall never know decay.
Great is thy skill, O Builder.
Thy fame shall endure for aye.”

A teacher builded a temple
With loving and infinite care; --
Raising each arch with patience.
Laying each stone with prayer.
None saw her unceasing effort;
None knew of her wondrous plan;
For the temple the teacher builded
Was unseen by the eyes of man.

Gone is the builder’s temple; --
Crumbled into the dust. --
Low lies each stately pillar,
Food for consuming rust;
But the temple the teacher builded
Will last while the ages roll; --
For that beautiful, unseen temple
Is a child’s immortal soul.