The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, The birds sweet music bore;

It stood a glory in its place,

A blessing evermore.

A little spring had lost its way
Amid the grass and fern;
A passing stranger scoop'd a well,
Where weary men might turn;
He wall'd it in, and hung with care
A ladle at the brink,-

He thought not of the deed he did,
But judged that toil might drink.
He pass'd again, and lo! the well,
By summers never dried,

Had cool'd ten thousand parching tongues,
And saved a life beside.

A dreamer dropped a random thought, 'Twas old and yet 'twas new,—

A simple fancy of the brain,

But strong in being true;
It shone upon a genial mind,
And lo! its light became
A lamp of life, a beacon ray,
A monitory flame.

The thought was small-its issue great:

A watch-fire on the hill,

It sheds its radiance far adown,

And cheers the valley still.

A nameless man, amid a crowd
That thronged the daily mart,
Let fall a word of Hope and Love,
Unstudied from the heart;
A whisper on the tumult thrown-
A transitory breath—

It raised a brother from the dust,

It saved a soul from death.

O germ! O fount! O word of Love!
O thought at random cast!

Ye were but little at the first,

But mighty at the last!

CHARLES MACKAY

211

LITTLE DEEDS

Not mighty deeds make up the sum

Of happiness below;

But little acts of kindliness

Which any child may show.

A merry sound to cheer the babe,
And tell a friend is near;

A word of ready sympathy
To dry the childish tear.

A glass of water timely brought;
An offered easy-chair;

A turning of the window-blind,
That all may feel the air.

An early flower unasked bestowed;
A light and cautious tread;
A voice to gentlest whisper hushed
To spare the aching head.

Oh! deeds like these, though little things,

Yet purest love disclose,

As fragrant perfume on the air

Reveals the hidden rose.

ANONYMOUS

212

NOTHING IS LOST

Nothing is lost: the drop of dew
Which trembles on the leaf or flower,
Is but exhaled to fall anew

In summer's thunder-shower;

Perchance to shine within the bow

That fronts the sun at fall of day;
Perchance to sparkle in the flow
Of fountains far away.

Nothing is lost: the tiniest seed

By wild birds borne or breezes blown,
Finds something suited to its need,
Wherein 'tis sown and grown.
The language of some household song,
The perfume of some cherished flower,
Though gone from outward sense, belong
To memory's after-hour.

So with our words: or harsh or kind,
Uttered, they are not all forgot;
They have their influence on the mind,
Pass on but perish not.

So with our deeds: for good or ill,

They have their pow'r scarce understood;
Then let us use our better will

To make them rife with good.

ANONYMOUS

213

DEAR CHILDREN, WHEN THEY GO TO
BED

Dear children, when they go to bed,
Should fold their hands in prayer,
And place themselves and all they love
In God Almighty's care;

Then they may sleep secure and still,

Through hours of darksome night,
And with the pretty daisy wake

In cheerful morning light.

ANONYMOUS

214

SMALL THINGS

I

One little grain in the sandy bars,
One little flower in a field of flowers,
One little star in a heaven of stars,
One little hour in a year of hours-
What if it makes or what if it mars?

But the bar is built of the little grains,

And the little flowers make the meadows gay, And the little stars light the heavenly plains, And the little hours of each little day

Give to us all that life contains.

215

SMALL THINGS

II

ANONYMOUS

A little word in kindness spoken,

A motion, or a tear,

Has often healed a heart that's broken,
And made a friend sincere.

A word, a look, has crushed to earth
Full many a budding flower,

Which, had a smile but graced its birth,
Would bless life's darkest hour.