This afternoon, an angry heart and crude

Consoled himself with an unkindly deed.

Within his soul was hate like garden weed,

That choked the buds and bulbs. In childish feud,

His glee, like noisy urchins brash and rude,

Who trample flowers, pay no thoughtful heed.

The careless acts bring harm and pain with speed.

And sin-scarred hearts deceive themselves, delude

No one. Such souls will have few friends at last.

When life is hard, no one will bear his care

Unless a kindly one, who looks about

To help, to pull and clear. The field is vast!

O weary man! Unhappy world! "Unfair

Is life" men say, "The whole is full of doubt."

SHE RETURNED IT

She borrowed a lump of sugar

To sweeten a cup of tea.

I felt so very silly

When she brought it back to me.

TO MY FRIENDS

 Prev. P 20/23 next