I found this poem in the preface of a genealogy book written in 1907, by W.H. Miller, Richmond, Kentucky. I believe the poem was written by the author's wife, Katherine Oldham Miller (K.O.M.)
Atoms massed, make up the universe.
The many littles make at last the whole;
No man is great, but each created soul has yet within,
the promise of perfection,
The image, and the stamp of the divine.
Adversity may hinder, dwarf and crush,
A chilling frost may blight the budding flower,
And years break down the growing tree of greatness
But, as the cycles roll, each passing life
Bequeaths its portion to a common good.
The generations piling, each on each,
Time writing still prosperity and failure.
And still recording effort and achievement,
And life and death, and shade and shine succeeding,
Bring on the world to that millenial age.
When every hill shall blossom with perfection,
The waters leap and dance for very joy.
And man regenerate stand great and good.
The statue and the fullness of a God.
~~K. O. M.
