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Relationship Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Condemned by Anonymous
  2. Boys Wanted by Anonymous
  3. The Credulous Child by Anonymous
  4. Our Own by Margaret E. Sangster
  5. The Other Side by Anonymous
  6. When to Criticise by Amos Russel Wells
  7. The Nightingale and the Glow-worm by William Cowper
  8. "I'll Stretch It a Little" by Anonymous
  9. On a Certain Conversation by Anonymous
  10. The Comparative Degree by Anonymous
  11. Old Grimes by Albert Gorton Greene
  12. Condemned by Anonymous
  13. A Weather Report by Anonymous
  1. The One Dear Face by Anonymous
  2. You Set My Heart to Music by Myrtella Southerland
  3. The Rift by Anonymous
  4. The Embarrassing Question by Anonymous
  5. Coincidences by Anonymous
  6. A Chance Meeting by Anonymous
  7. The Discourse by Anonymous
  8. Requitals by Anonymous
  9. Except to heaven, she is nought by Emily Dickinson
  10. I. by Christopher Pearse Cranch
  11. After the Quarrel by Laurence Dunbar
  12. The Feud by Madison Cawein
  13. II. by Christopher Pearse Cranch
  14. Understanding by Sara Teasdale
  15. A Handshake by William Henry Dawson
  16. Hunt a Busy Man by Amos Russel Wells
  17. Give Them the Flowers Now by Leigh M. Hodges
  18. Reunited by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
  19. The Joys We Miss by Edgar A. Guest
  20. A Poison Tree by William Blake

Relationship Poems

    Don't regret how you treat your own

  1. Condemned

    I know what my remorse will be,
    Then when her final pulses stir;
    "She did so many things for me,
    And I so few, so few for her."

    - Anonymous
    Condemned
    by Amos Russel Wells

    I know what my remorse will be,
    Then when her final pulses stir;
    "She did so many things for me,
    And I so few, so few for her."

    "Dear, patient hands that toiled so long,
    Where were your kisses, overdue?
    Dear, patient feet, so swift, so strong,
    Where was the box of nard for you?"

    On that sad day, alas! will come
    The saddest grief, the blackest blot:
    "I saw, and yet my lips were dumb;
    I knew, and yet I did it not."

  2. Our Own

    We have careful thought for the stranger,
    And smiles for the sometime guest,
    But oft for our own the bitter tone,
    Though we love our own the best.

    - Margaret E. Sangster
    Our Own
    by Margaret E. Sangster

    If I had known, in the morning,
    How wearily all the day
    The words unkind would trouble my mind
    That I said when you went away,
    I had been more careful, darling,
    Nor given you needless pain;
    But—we vex our own with look and tone
    We might never take back again.

    For though in the quiet evening
    You may give me the kiss of peace,
    Yet it well might be that never for me
    The pain of the heart should cease;
    How many go forth at morning
    Who never come home at night,
    And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken
    That sorrow can ne'er set right.

    We have careful thought for the stranger,
    And smiles for the sometime guest,
    But oft for our own the bitter tone,
    Though we love our own the best.
    Ah, lip with the curve impatient,
    Ah, brow with the shade of scorn,
    'T were a cruel fate were the night too late
    To undue the work of morn.

  3. Conflict, Relating / Getting Along With Others

  4. The Other Side

    by Anonymous

    Your side is gold, the other side is brass?
    Perhaps but stay your pride,
    Gold may be tarnished, brass be radiant;
    Look on the other side.

    Your side is true, the other side is false?
    Perhaps; but time and tide
    Have often overturned the thoughts of men;
    Look on the other side.

  5. When to Criticise

    When you see the man entire,
    Not alone the faults he has,
    Find a somewhat to admire
    Underneath the paltry mass,—
    Not till then, if you are wise,
    Will you dare to criticise.

    - Amos R. Wells
    When to Criticise
    by Amos Russel Wells

    When your heart is warm with love
    Even for your enemies;
    When your words come from above,
    Not from where the venom is;
    When you see the man entire,
    Not alone the faults he has,
    Find a somewhat to admire
    Underneath the paltry mass,—
    Not till then, if you are wise,
    Will you dare to criticise.

    When you see the thing that's wrong,
    And—a way to better it,—
    Push a noble cause along,
    Not with censure fetter it;
    When your purpose is to build,
    Not to tear the building down,
    Use the sunshine that will gild,
    Not the dark and dismal frown,—
    Not till then, if you are wise,
    Will you dare to criticise.

  6. The Nightingale and the Glow-worm

    Those Christians best deserve the name
    Who studiously make peace their aim;

    - William Cowper
    The Nightingale and the Glow-worm
    by William Cowper

    A Nightingale, that all day long
    Had cheer'd the village with his song,
    Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
    Nor yet when eventide was ended,
    Began to feel, as well he might,
    The keen demands of appetite;
    When, looking eagerly around,
    He spied far off, upon the ground,
    A something shining in the dark,
    And knew the glow-worm by his spark;
    So stooping down from hawthorn top,
    He thought to put him in his crop.
    The worm, aware of his intent,
    Harangu'd him thus, right eloquent —

    Did you admire my lamp, quoth he,
    As much as I your minstrelsy,
    You would abhor to do me wrong,
    As much as I to spoil your song;
    For 'twas the self-same pow'r divine
    Taught you to sing, and me to shine;
    That you with music, I with light,
    Might beautify and cheer the night.
    The songster heard his short oration,
    And, warbling out his approbation,
    Releas'd him, as my story tells,
    And found a supper somewhere else.

    Hence jarring sectaries may learn
    Their real int'rest to discern;
    That brother should not war with brother,
    And worry and devour each other;
    But sing and shine by sweet consent,
    Till life's poor transient night is spent,
    Respecting in each other's case
    The gifts of nature and of grace.

    Those Christians best deserve the name
    Who studiously make peace their aim;
    Peace, both the duty and the prize
    Of him that creeps and him that flies.

  7. "I'll Stretch It a Little"

    by Anonymous

    The wintry blast was fierce and cold,
    And the lassie's coat was thin and old.
    Her little brother by her side
    Shivered and pitifully cried.
    "Come underneath my coat," said she,
    "And see how snug and warm you'll be."
    The brother answered, nothing loth,
    "But is it big enough for both?"
    "Yes," said the girl, with cheery wit;
    "I'll stretch it out a little bit."

    Ah, brothers, sisters, where the mind
    Is bent upon an action kind,
    What though the means are sparely spun,
    And hardly seem to serve for one?
    Stretch them with love, and straightway you
    Will find them amply wide for two!

  8. On a Certain Conversation

    Speech is a bridge, from mind to mind,
    For gainful interchange designed;
    But when you meet a selfish man,
    The bridge has lost its central span!

    - Amos R. Wells
    On a Certain Conversation
    by Amos Russel Wells

    Two egotists conversed one day,
    Each in a quite contented way,
    And each—the vain and happy elf—
    Soliloquized about himself.

    Speech is a bridge, from mind to mind,
    For gainful interchange designed;
    But when you meet a selfish man,
    The bridge has lost its central span!

  9. The Comparative Degree

    Make not a man your measuring-rod
    If you would span the way to God; Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,"
    But fix your eyes on perfectness.
    Make for the loftiest point in view,
    And draw your friends along with you.

    - Anonymous
    The Comparative Degree
    by Anonymous

    What weight of woe we owe to thee,
    Accurst comparative degree!
    Thy paltry step can never give
    Access to the superlative;
    For he who would the wisest be,

    Strives to make others wise as he,
    And never yet was man judged best
    Who would be better than the rest;
    So does comparison unkind
    Dwarf and debase the haughty mind.

    Make not a man your measuring-rod
    If you would span the way to God; Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,"
    But fix your eyes on perfectness.
    Make for the loftiest point in view,
    And draw your friends along with you.

  10. Old Grimes

    His heart was open as the day,
    His feelings all were true;

    - Albert Gorton Greene
    Old Grimes
    by Albert Gorton Greene

    Old Grimes is dead; that good old man,
    We ne'er shall see him more;
    He used to wear a long, black coat,
    All buttoned down before.

    His heart was open as the day,
    His feelings all were true;
    His hair was some inclined to gray,
    He wore it in a queue.

    He lived at peace with all mankind,
    In friendship he was true;
    His coat had pocket-holes behind,
    His pantaloons were blue.

    He modest merit sought to find,
    And pay it its desert;
    He had no malice in his mind,
    No ruffles on his shirt.

    His neighbours he did not abuse,
    Was sociable and gay;
    He wore large buckles on his shoes,
    And changed them every day.

    His knowledge, hid from public gaze,
    He did not bring to view,
    Nor make a noise town-meeting days,
    As many people do.

    His worldly goods he never threw
    In trust to fortune's chances,
    But lived (as all his brothers do)
    In easy circumstances.

    Thus undisturbed by anxious cares
    His peaceful moments ran;
    And everybody said he was
    A fine old gentleman.

  11. A Weather Report

    The day was darkly drear
    Till you were in it,
    But sunlight splendored clear
    That very minute.

    - Anonymous
    A Weather Report
    by Anonymous

    The day was darkly drear
    Till you were in it,
    But sunlight splendored clear
    That very minute.

    The world was dull and bare,
    No birds a-winging;
    You came, and all the air
    Was full of singing.

    The world was sleet and storm,
    A wintry mummer;
    You came, and tender, warm,
    The world was summer!

  12. The One Dear Face

    A crowd is such a weary, hopeless thing
    Till I can trace
    Somewhere amid its drift and hurrying
    The one dear face;

    - Anonymous
    The One Dear Face
    by Anonymous

    A crowd is such a weary, hopeless thing
    Till I can trace
    Somewhere amid its drift and hurrying
    The one dear face;
    Then leaps the crowd to meaning and to life,
    And that dead sea
    Of alien purposes and foreign strife
    Is home to me.

    A task is barren till in its design
    It can embrace
    The inspiration and the courage fine
    Of that dear face.
    And then the pallid duty sudden glows,
    As roses run
    Across a lonely mountain's reach of snows,
    Touched by the sun.

    Triumph itself is empty, cold, and bare
    Of warmth and grace.
    Till I discern amid the wreaths and blare
    The one dear face.
    Then am I humbly glad and kingly proud,
    Achieving this,
    And wait impatient till I am allowed
    Her crown—a kiss.

    Ah, heaven itself but half a heaven will be,
    A longing place,
    Until amid its loveliness I see
    The one dear face.
    Then angel throngs remote will flash to friends,
    And I shall bide,
    Where'er my blest eternity extends,
    So satisfied.

  13. You Set My Heart to Music

    Whene'er I see your kindly face again
    It sets my heart to music pure and sweet;
    Whene'er I hear your voice life's care and pain
    Seem all so trivial and vain and fleet.

    - Myrtella Southerland
    You Set My Heart to Music
    by Myrtella Southerland

    Whene'er I see your kindly face again
    It sets my heart to music pure and sweet;
    Whene'er I hear your voice life's care and pain
    Seem all so trivial and vain and fleet.

    I think I understand just what you are
    To me in life, it needs no studying;
    Your character, as lovely as a star,
    Inspires me always to new songs to sing.

    What would life be without sweet voices here
    To cheer us o'er the daily paths we fare,
    Without the haunts we daily find most dear,
    The atmosphere of friendship dwelling there?

    What would it be without its lovely smiles
    For here life seems to blossom at its best,
    Until we'd simply travel miles and miles
    To seek the end of such a happy quest.

    Ah, should it be that distance separates
    Such happy hearts as yours and mine, my dear,
    We may depend there are mostly kindly fates
    To intercede for us and give us cheer!

    Then simply rest upon old memory
    Of loveliness, pure gold and unalloyed,
    And know, how well, such joy of ours shall be,
    Our peace of heart need never be destroyed.

  14. The Rift

    Whene'er I see your kindly face again
    It sets my heart to music pure and sweet;
    Whene'er I hear your voice life's care and pain
    Seem all so trivial and vain and fleet.

    - Anonymous
    The Rift
    by Anonymous

    We spoke no word and we gave no look,
    But we quarrelled, my love and I;
    And our hearts ran dead as an empty brook,
    Though neither of us knew why.

    And many a time in the later years,
    With reason enough, God wot,
    We have come to reproaches and wrath and tears,
    That soon were gone and forgot;

    But still we remember the hour malign,
    And must till the day we die,—
    The hour when we quarrelled and made no sign,
    And neither of us knew why.

  15. The Embarrassing Question

    by Amos Russel Wells

    "Do you like my new hat?" says your wife,
    Appearing in awful disguise,
    A fabric whose towering strife
    Shrieks up to the horrified skies.

    "Do you like my new hat?" and she smiles,
    Her dimples with diffidence blent,
    And all the dear, timorous wiles
    That seek a delighted assent.

    And what is a fellow of wit.
    And honest, moreover, to do.
    But say, as he shudders from it,
    "At any rate, dear, I like you"?

  16. Coincidences

    by Amos Russel Wells

    "Isn't it very lucky," I once heard a youngster say,
    "That it never snows in summer, when the snow would melt away?
    And wouldn't it be dreadful if the sun rose in the night
    When the people all were gone to bed, their eyes shut tight?
    And how do you account for this, that when our teacher's crusty
    Our behavior's always dreadful and our knowledge always rusty?
    And isn't it very fortunate that when her temper's jolly
    We somehow never spoil it by poor lessons or by folly?"

  17. A Chance Meeting

    I had a moment's talk with him
    And saw that he was good,
    A spirit candid to the brim,
    Breathing of brotherhood,

    - Anonymous
    A Chance Meeting
    by Anonymous

    I had a moment's talk with him
    And saw that he was good,
    A spirit candid to the brim,
    Breathing of brotherhood,

    A fleeting face, a stranger face
    I shall not meet again,
    Yet earth is now a friendlier place,
    And full of better men.

    If such a whiff of soul transforms
    So blessedly and far,
    What of that world beyond the storms,
    Where none but true men are?

  18. The Discourse

    by Anonymous

    He "cleared the way" remorselessly,
    This conscientious bore,
    Removing misconceptions—
    Which were not there before,

    He met objections skilfully—
    That no one ever made;
    He waged a war with men of straw,
    And did not seem afraid.

    And thus he led, by crafty steps,
    To one triumphant burst,
    Convincingly demonstrating—
    What all believed at first.

  19. Requitals

    by Amos Russel Wells

    Hast a present? Be not swift
    To return a gift for gift.
    Thus the shallow mirror's face
    Backward flings the approaching grace.

    Rather ape that magic plate
    Where the eager fluids wait
    Some appeal of joy, to laugh
    In a lasting photograph!

  20. Except to heaven, she is nought

    by Emily Dickinson

    Except to heaven, she is nought;
    Except for angels, lone;
    Except to some wide-wandering bee,
    A flower superfluous blown;

    Except for winds, provincial;
    Except by butterflies,
    Unnoticed as a single dew
    That on the acre lies.

    The smallest housewife in the grass,
    Yet take her from the lawn,
    And somebody has lost the face
    That made existence home!

  21. I.

    The Summer goes, with all its birds and flowers;
    The Autumn passes with its solemn sky;
    The Winter comes again — yet you and I
    Know not the old companionship once ours.

    - Christopher Pearse Cranch
    I.
    by Christopher Pearse Cranch

    The Summer goes, with all its birds and flowers;
    The Autumn passes with its solemn sky;
    The Winter comes again — yet you and I
    Know not the old companionship once ours.
    The twilight mist between us hangs and lowers;
    Your face I see not — voice I cannot hear.
    No letter tells me you in thought are near.
    The west-wind blows and sweeps away the showers,
    But from the west no whisper comes of you.
    Friends press around you in your distant home —
    (Your distant home I never yet have seen,)
    And old familiar greetings still renew;
    While I with fancy's eyes alone can come
    And peep unnoted there behind your screen.

  22. After the Quarrel

    You say that you are wronged — ah, well,
    I count that friendship poor, at best
    A bauble, a mere bagatelle,
    That cannot stand so slight a test.

    - Laurence Dunbar
    After the Quarrel
    by Paul Laurence Dunbar

    So we, who've supped the self-same cup,
    To-night must lay our friendship by;
    Your wrath has burned your judgment up,
    Hot breath has blown the ashes high.
    You say that you are wronged — ah, well,
    I count that friendship poor, at best
    A bauble, a mere bagatelle,
    That cannot stand so slight a test.

    I fain would still have been your friend,
    And talked and laughed and loved with you
    But since it must, why, let it end;
    The false but dies, 't is not the true.
    So we are favored, you and I,
    Who only want the living truth.
    It was not good to nurse the lie;
    'Tis well it died in harmless youth.

    I go from you to-night to sleep.
    Why, what's the odds? why should I grieve?
    I have no fund of tears to weep
    For happenings that undeceive.
    The days shall come, the days shall go
    Just as they came and went before.
    The sun shall shine, the streams shall flow
    Though you and I are friends no more.

    And in the volume of my years,
    Where all my thoughts and acts shall be,
    The page whereon your name appears
    Shall be forever sealed to me.
    Not that I hate you over-much,
    'Tis less of hate than love defied;
    Howe'er, our hands no more shall touch,
    We'll go our ways, the world is wide.

  23. The Feud

    by Madison Cawein

    Rocks, trees and rocks; and down a mossy stone
    The murmuring ooze and trickle of a stream
    Through bushes, where the mountain spring lies lone,—
    A gleaming cairngorm where the shadows dream,—
    And one wild road winds like a saffron seam.

    Here sang the thrush, whose pure, mellifluous note
    Dropped golden sweetness on the fragrant June;
    Here cat—and blue-bird and wood-sparrow wrote
    Their presence on the silence with a tune;
    And here the fox drank 'neath the mountain moon.

    Frail ferns and dewy mosses and dark brush—
    Impenetrable briers, deep and dense,
    And wiry bushes,—brush, that seemed to crush
    The struggling saplings with its tangle, whence
    Sprawled out the ramble of an old rail-fence.

    A wasp buzzed by; and then a butterfly
    In orange and amber, like a floating flame;
    And then a man, hard-eyed and very sly,
    Gaunt—checked and haggard and a little lame,
    With an old rifle, down the mountain came.

    He listened, drinking from a flask he took
    Out of the ragged pocket of his coat;
    Then all around him cast a stealthy look;
    Lay down; and watched an eagle soar and float,
    His fingers twitching at his hairy throat.

    The shades grew longer; and each Cumberland height
    Loomed, framed in splendours of the dolphin dusk.
    Around the road a horseman rode in sight;
    Young, tall, blonde-bearded. Silent, grim, and brusque,
    He in the thicket aimed—The gun ran husk;

    And echoes barked among the hills and made
    Repeated instants of the shot's distress.—
    then silence—and the trampled bushes swayed;—
    Then silence, packed with murder and the press
    Of distant hoofs that galloped riderless.

  24. II.

    From what we were — you still to me are young,
    And I to you. The fireside of our loves
    Shall be our summer

    - Christopher Pearse Cranch
    II.
    by Christopher Pearse Cranch

    Parted by time and space for many a year,
    Yet ever longing, hoping for a day
    When, heart to heart, the happy weeks shall stay
    Their flight for us, and all our sky be clear
    As in our boyhood's spring — my brother dear,
    You and I bide our time. The buds of May
    Shall blossom yet for us. What though the gray
    Of dusky Autumn eventide be near,
    And silver locks and beards have changed us so
    From what we were — you still to me are young,
    And I to you. The fireside of our loves
    Shall be our summer, bright as in the glow
    Of youth, when we, two blithe Arcadians, sung
    And fluted in those old Virginia groves.

  25. Understanding

    But you I never understood,
    Your spirit's secret hides like gold
    Sunk in a Spanish galleon
    Ages ago in waters cold.

    - Sara Teasdale
    Understanding
    by Sara Teasdale

    I understood the rest too well,
    And all their thoughts have come to be
    Clear as grey sea-weed in the swell
    Of a sunny shallow sea.

    But you I never understood,
    Your spirit's secret hides like gold
    Sunk in a Spanish galleon
    Ages ago in waters cold.

  26. A Handshake

    One good handshake starts a glow
    That dies not out soon as we part.

    - William Henry Dawson
    A Handshake
    by William Henry Dawson

    There's something in the friendly grasp
    Of any right good, honest hand,—
    It may be the peculiar clasp,
    Just what, I can't quite understand;
    But something makes one seem to know
    That "hand to hand" means "heart to heart,"
    And one good handshake starts a glow
    That dies not out soon as we part.
    Then clasp the hand of honest toil,
    And clasp the hand of smothered pain;
    Plant germs of friendship in heart-soil—
    They'll grow, an hundredfold they'll gain.

  27. Hunt a Busy Man

    by Amos Russel Wells

    "If you've a job that you want done,"
    So runs a saying grim,
    "Just find the busiest man you can,
    And give the task to him."

    Of all the wicked schemes devised
    By laziness and fat,
    The wickedest, the cruelest,
    The shamefulest, is that!

    The man who says that wicked thing
    Some day will surely go
    To most appropriate punishment
    Administered below.

    Upon his groaning form bestowed,
    A weight of iron shall rest,
    And ever with increasing loads
    His body shall be pressed.

    "Now here's another little weight,"
    The fiends will say with vim;
    "And here's an over-loaded man;
    So lay the weight on him."

  28. Give Them the Flowers Now

    Just a kind word or a greeting;
    Just a warm grasp or a smile—
    These are the flowers that will lighten
    The burdens for many a mile.

    - Leigh M. Hodges
    Give Them the Flowers Now
    by Leigh M. Hodges

    Closed eyes can't see the white roses,
    Cold hands can't hold them, you know;
    Breath that is stilled cannot gather
    The odors that sweet from them blow.
    Death, with a peace beyond dreaming,
    Its children of earth doth endow;
    Life is the time we can help them,
    So give them the flowers now!

    Here are the struggles and striving,
    Here are the cares and the tears;
    Now is the time to be smoothing
    The frowns and the furrows and fears.
    What to closed eyes are kind sayings?
    What to hushed heart is deep vow?
    Naught can avail after parting,
    So give them the flowers now!

    Just a kind word or a greeting;
    Just a warm grasp or a smile—
    These are the flowers that will lighten
    The burdens for many a mile.
    After the journey is over
    What is the use of them; how
    Can they carry them who must be carried?
    Oh, give them the flowers now!

    Blooms from the happy heart's garden,
    Plucked in the spirit of love;
    Blooms that are earthly reflections
    Of flowers that blossom above.
    Words cannot tell what a measure
    Of blessing such gifts will allow
    To dwell in the lives of many,
    So give them the flowers now!

  29. Reunited

    by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

    Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;
    Tie up the broken threads of that old dream,
    And go on happy as before; and seem
    Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.

    Let us forget the graves, which lie between
    Our parting and our meeting, and the tears
    That rusted out the gold-work of the years;
    The frosts that fell upon our gardens green.

    Let us forget the cold, malicious fate
    Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,
    And once more revel in the old sweet joys
    Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late!

    Forget the deep-ploughed furrows in my brow;
    Forget the silver gleaming in my hair;
    Look only in my eyes! Oh! darling, there
    The old love shone no warmer then than now.

    Down in the tender deeps of thy dear eyes,
    I find the lost sweet memory of my youth,
    Bright with the holy radiance of thy truth,
    And hallowed with the blue of summer skies.

    Tie up the broken threads, and let us go,
    Like reunited lovers, hand in hand,
    Back, and yet onward, to the sunny land,
    Of our To Be, which was our Long Ago.

  30. The Joys We Miss

    by Edgar A. Guest

    There never comes a lonely day but what we miss the laughing ways
    Of those who used to walk with us through all our happy yesterdays.
    We seldom miss the earthly great—the famous men that life has known—
    But, as the years go racing by, we miss the friends we used to own.

    The chair wherein he used to sit recalls the kindly father true,
    For, oh, so filled with fun he was, and, oh, so very much he knew!
    And as we face the problems grave with which the years of life are filled,
    We miss the hand which guided us and miss the voice forever stilled.

    We little guessed how much he did to smooth our pathway day by day,
    How much of joy he brought to us, how much of care he brushed away;
    But now that we must tread alone the thoroughfare of life, we find
    How many burdens we were spared by him who was so brave and kind.

    Death robs the living, not the dead—they sweetly sleep whose tasks are done;
    But we are weaker than before who still must live and labor on.
    For when come care and grief to us, and heavy burdens bring us woe,
    We miss the smiling, helpful friends on whom we leaned long years ago.

    We miss the happy, tender ways of those who brought us mirth and cheer;
    We never gather round the hearth but what we wish our friends were near;
    For peace is born of simple things—a kindly word, a good-night kiss,
    The prattle of a babe, and love—these are the vanished joys we miss.

  31. A Poison Tree

    by William Blake

    I was angry with my friend;
    I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
    I was angry with my foe:
    I told it not, my wrath did grow.

    And I waterd it in fears,
    Night & morning with my tears:
    And I sunned it with smiles,
    And with soft deceitful wiles.

    And it grew both day and night.
    Till it bore an apple bright.
    And my foe beheld it shine,
    And he knew that it was mine.

    And into my garden stole,
    When the night had veild the pole;
    In the morning glad I see;
    My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

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