Each morning long before dawn,
I rise and creep downstairs,
an alchemist entering his study.
I turn on my magic screen
to see what gifts
the darkness has bestowed.
Again today, few results
of the work are manifest.
Disappointment rises.
Perseverance
gets up to comfort her,
and the work goes on.
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-alchemist-2/
