[Editor: A poem by Mr. H. S. Banks. Published in The Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist & Grazier, 21 December 1872.]
Little Things
The little things which make life fair
Are just as beautiful as rare;
’Tis these, we oft so lightly heed
Which gladden hearts or make them bleed;
’Tis these which lend to life a charm,
Or chill its hopes when fresh and warm.
The tree which mocked the wildest storm
May fall from ravage of a worm,
Did not the woodman’s kindly care
Remove the canker lurking there:
So we — who larger wounds defy —
To one small grief may yield and die;
And greatest gifts are held less dear
Than sympathetic word or tear.
Source:
The Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist & Grazier (Sydney, NSW), Saturday 21 December 1872, page 17 [the poem was reprinted from Punch Staff Papers, Gordon and Gotch, Sydney, 1872]
[Editor: In two instances, “’T is” has been rendered as “’Tis”.]
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