Poems (Hazlett-Bevis)/Sped Arrows
Sped Arrows.
There are cruel words That cut like swords, In these aching hearts of ours.There is never a day, Let us do as we may, That can take back unwelcome hours.
A whisper soft Of slander, oft Will leave on the air a stain, That try as we will Remains there still And we strive to remove in vain.
There are hearts that break Every day, and we make Our own lives harder still, By a careless tone That we give alone, For the sake of a stubborn will.
It's a little thing For a bird to sing As it springs from its dewey nest, But it teaches all, Both great and small, That a peaceful life is best.