I wrote a verse and sent it forth And never can recall Its influence for good or bad, However great or small; I wrote a song and it is sung, I do not know how much, Unknown to me the ears that hear, The hearts that it may touch. I cast a stone in waters still And ripples more and more Departed from the spot it struck And reached to every shore; And so with every act we do, Or word that we may say, The ripples start to circle 'round From near to far away. If we but knew the harm that comes From what we do or say, If we could know the good that comes From little acts today, Tomorrow would be brighter far For there is much we'd do, And much we'd leave undone, unsaid, If we but only knew. And oft I think the future life— Our Heaven or our Hell— Will be in part that we shall watch The ripples grow and swell From acts which we have done on earth, That we shall clearly see, Circles that give us joy or pain Through all Eternity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CLEAR AND COLDER; BOSTON COMMON by ROBERT FROST THE GHOST OF DEACON BROWN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE ARAB by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF MY UNCLE ARLY by EDWARD LEAR CURFEW by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |