Oh the comfort--
the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person--
having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
but pouring them all right out,
just as they are,
chaff and grain together,
certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping,
and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

"Friendship" by M. M. Craik

Monday, December 3, 2012

Kind Hearts

Kind hearts are the gardens
Kind thoughts are the roots
Kind words are the blossoms
Kind deeds are the fruits
Love is the sweet sunshine
That warms into life
For only in darkness
Grow hatred and strife.

This poem has no author, but it was contributed to the journal by an Ethel Lou.  What a great name!  I love Ethel Lou's little piece. Interestingly, the beginning of this poem was actually written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

"Kind hearts are the gardens,
Kind thoughts are the roots,
Kind words are the flowers,
Kind deeds are the fruits,
Take care of your garden
And keep out the weeds,
Fill it with sunshine
Kind words and kind deeds."

I'm not sure who or when the poem was changed, perhaps Ethel Lou adapted it. I think I prefer Wadsworth's version.

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