If I had known in the morning How wearily all the day The words unkind would trouble my mind That I said when you went away, I had been more careful, darling, Nor given you needless pain; But we vex our own with look and tone We may never take back again. For though in the quiet evening You may give me the kiss of peace, Yet it well might be that never for me The pain of the heart should cease! How many go forth at morning Who never come home at night! And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken That sorrow can ne'er set right. We have careful thought for the stranger, And smiles for the sometime guest; But oft for "our own" the bitter tone, Though we love our own the best. Ah! Lips with the curve impatient, Ah! Brow with the shade of scorn, 'Twere a cruel fate, were the night too late To undo the work of the morn! -Margaret E. Sangster
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Kind hearts are the gardens,
Kind thoughts are the roots, Kind words are the flowers, Kind deeds are the fruits. Take care of the gardens, And keep them from weeds. Fill, fill them with flowers, Kind words and kind deeds. -Henry W. Longfellow Two vases stood on the Shelf of Life
As Love came by to look, One was of priceless cloisonne', The other of solid common clay. Which do you think Love took? He took them both from the Shelf of Life, He took them both with a smile; He clasped them both with his finger tips, And touched them both with caressing lips, And held them both for a while. From tired hands Love let them fall, And never a word was spoken. One was of priceless cloisonne', The other of solid common clay. Which do you think was broken? -Nan Terrell Reed You entered my life in a casual way,
And saw at a glance what I needed; There were others who passed me or met me each day, But never a one of them heeded. Perhaps you were thinking of other folks more, Or chance simply seemed to decree it; I know there were many such chances before, But the others-well, they didn't see it. You said just the thing that I wished you would say, And you made me believe that you meant it; I held up my head in the old gallant way, And resolved you should never repent it. There are times when encouragement means such a lot, And a word is enough to convey it; There were others who could have, as easy as not- But, just the same, they didn't say it. There may have been someone who could have done more To help me along, though I doubt it; What I needed was cheering, and always before They had let me plod onward without it. You helped to refashion the dream of my heart, And made me turn eagerly to it; There were others who might have (I question that part)- But, after all, they didn't do it! -Grace Stricker Dawson If I had known what trouble you were bearing;
What griefs were in the silence of your face; I would have been more gentle, and more caring, And tried to give you gladness for a space. I would have brought more warmth into the place, If I had known. If I had known what thoughts despairing drew you; (Why do we never try to understand?) I would have lent a little friendship to you, And slipped my hand within your hand, And made your stay more pleasant in the land, If I had known. -Mary Carolyn Davies She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meets in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose live is innocent. -Lord Byron Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known, To which time will but make thee more dear! No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets The same look which she turned when he rose! -Thomas Moore All paths lead to you
Where e'er I stray, You are the evening star At the end of the day. All paths lead to you Hill-top or low, You are the white birch In the sun's glow. All paths lead to you Where e'er I roam. You are the lark-song Calling me home! -Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff Folk need a lot of loving in the morning;
The day is all before, with cares beset- The cares we know, and they that give no warning; For love is God's own antidote for fret. Folk need a heap of loving at the noontime- In the battle lull, the moment snatched from strife- Halfway between the waking and the croontime, While bickering and worriment are rife. Folk hunger so for loving at the nighttime, When wearily they take them home to rest- At slumber song and turning-out-the-light time- Of all the times for loving, that's the best. Folk want a lot of loving every minute- The sympathy of others and their smile! Till life's end, from the moment they begin it, Folks need a lot of loving all the while. -Strickland Gillilan |
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