We Never Know

I spoke a word,
And no one heard;
I wrote a word,
And no one cared
Or seemed to heed;
But after half a score of years
It blossomed, in a fragrant deed.
Preachers and teachers all are we,
Sowers of seed unconsciously.
Our hearers are beyond our ken,
Yet all we give may come again,
With usury of joy or pain.
We never know
To what one little word may grow
See to it, then, that all your seeds
Be such as bring forth noble deeds.

-John Oxenham