Page:Poems Crandall.djvu/39

The purpose pure in view.
    A careless word
    Would pass unheard
If sure the heart were true.

Alas! we oft misunderstand
  The ones we hold most dear;
Unbidden rise on either hand
  Rude guests, dark doubt and fear.
    An idle jest
    May stir the breast
To swift and sharp reply.
    A little pride,
    The wound to hide,
A darkly flashing eye.

And thus is born a bitter strife,
  Two souls in shadow cast;
Perhaps thro' all a future life
  To mourn the friendship past.
    The words we speak
    Their mission seek
A power for good or ill;
    They lightly fall
    Beyond recall,
Nor heed our later will.

Could we a brother spirit view
  Cares, trials, hopes and aim,
The heart might throb with feelings new
  And bless where now we blame.

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