Sunday, August 10, 2014

Little and Great

A traveler on a dusty road strewed acorns on the lea;
And one took root and sprouted up, and grew; into a tree.
Love sought its shade at evening-time, to breathe its early vows;
And Age was pleased, in heats of noon, to bask beneath its boughs.
The doormouse 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 scooped a well where weary men might turn;
He walled 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 passed again; and lo! The well, by summer never dried,
Had cooled ten thousand parched tongues, and saved a life beside

A nameless man, amid the 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.

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