The joy is in the making. While we sow

Our dream is wonderful with flowers, we name

The purlieus of our garden and the aim

Is worth the effort, yet we cannot know

The garden will be just a garden, so

The dream is heaven. This way mothers frame

The child's high dedication to its fame,

Repaid for all reality may show.

God knows this, so He lets us have the best,

The vast anticipation, rugged man

Joys in the struggle, triumphs over throes,

Vanquished a thousand times he still finds zest

In hope and all his pleasure in a plan

To be fulfilled at length in Heaven ? - who knows.