One never knows
How far a word of kindness goes;
One never sees
How far a smile of friendship flees.
Down, through the years,
The deed forgotten reappears.
One kindly word
The souls of many here has stirred.
Man goes his way
And tells with every passing day,
Until life’s end:
“Once unto me he played the friend.”
We cannot say
What lips are praising us to-day.
We cannot tell
Whose prayers ask God to guard us well.
But kindness lives
Beyond the memory of him who gives.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
Kind Hearts are the Gardens By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Kind hearts are the gardens, Kind thoughts are the roots,...
Kindness Matters
Now before I begin this poem, allow me to preface it with a warning and play devil’s advocate for a moment. I know many who are kind of heart can have many second thoughts about being so ” out there ” with acts of kindness. Many might say it makes one too vulnerable to predators who will only see weakness and take advantage of such acts. That these acts of kindness are a horizontal rather than a vertical progression that can actually be an impediment to success and rise in the world we live in today. That they may actually be reason enough for others to belittle and cause pain.
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