The forgetting of wrong in a moment of joy,
Quite erased the hurt and the scar,
With music of kindness and naught to annoy,
And gold of the friendship refusing alloy.
Thus comrades in their happiness are.
I WATCHED MY FLOWERS
I watched my flowers grow and brighten barren places;
They smiled at me the whole day long with brilliant faces
The blues and reds, the white and yellow in morning dews
Drove out the hurt of bitter grief and other bruise,
But now the drought will blight the tender buds and leaves.
And parch the earth as the winds blow on scorching sprees,
'Til July's heat and August sun are duly past,
Yet many things are fine and good at weary last
For if the rain should come, good seed would surely die.
In truth, I should be thankful for a cloudless sky
To ripen seed that sprout and grow in barren places.
And wink at me next year with bright and smiling faces
BEES OF HATRED
The bees of hatred hover
Above and around us.
A good crop will be hatched
To torment and sting us.
THIS AFTERNOON
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."