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.

~Dinah Maria Mulock Craik~

Yesterday's Tears

Yesterday's tears build a river,
Washing the soul of its pain...
Cleansing the heart and mind,
Like a gentle sweet spring rain.
When you feel you have cried your River
And the throat aches from tears shed
And the mind is exhausted from feeling
Or the heart feels it is now dead...
Raise your eyes to the skies and recall
How beautiful a full moon can be.
See the stars shining gently on us all,
And remember how good friends can be.
Call that friend you know is there,
Waiting to help you escape your pain,
The one who does not judge, but listens,
So you may one day love again!

~unknown~

New Friends And Old Friends

Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.
New-made friendships, like new wine,
Age will mellow and refine.
Friendships that have have stood the test-
Time and change are surely best;
Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray,
Friendship never knows decay.

For 'mid old friends, tried and true,
Once more we our youth renew.
But old friends, alas! may die,
New friends mist their place supply.
Cherish friendship in your breast-
New is good, but old is best;
Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.

~Joseph Parry~

I Hear It Said

Last night my friend-he says he is my friend-
Came in and questioned me. "I hear it said
You have done this and that. I come to ask
Are these things true?" A glint was in his eye
Of small distrust. His words were crisp and hot.
He measured me with anger, and flung down
A little heap of facts had come to him.
"I hear it said you have done this and that."

Suppose I have? And are you not my friend?
And are you not my friend enough to say,
"If it were true, there would be reason in it.
And if I cannot know the how and why,
Still I can trust you, waiting for a word,
Or for no word, if no word ever come!"

Is friendship just a thing of afternoons,
Of pleasuring one's friend and one's dear self-
Greed for sedate approval of his pace,
Suspicion if he take one little turn
Upon the road, one flight into the air,
And has not sought you for your Yea or Nay!

No. Friendship is not so. I am my own.
And whosoever near my friend may draw
Unto my soul, there is a legend hung
Above a certain straight and narrow way
Says, "Dear my friend, ye may not enter here!"
I would the time has come-as it has not-

When men shall rise and say, "He is my friend.
He has done this? and what is that to me!
Think you I have a check upon his head,
Or cast a guiding rein across his neck?
I am his friend. And for that cause I walk
Not overclose beside him, leaving still
Space for his silences, and space for mine."

~Barbara Young~

Our Own

If I had known in the morning
How wearily all the day
The words unkind would trouble my mind
That I said when you went away,
Had I been more careful, darling,
Nor given you needless pain;
But we vex our own with look and tone
We may never take back again.

For though in the quiet evening
You may give me the kiss of peace,
Yet it well might be that never for me
The pain of the heart should cease!
How many go forth at morning
Who never come home at night!
And hearts have broken for harsh words spoken
That sorrow can ne'er set right.

We have careful thought for the stranger
And smiles for the sometimes guest;
But oft for "our own" the bitter tone,
Though we love our own the best.
Ah! lips with the curve impatient,
Ah! brow with the shade of scorn,
"Twere a cruel fate, were the night to late
To undo the work of the morn!

~Margaret Sangster~

~~~~~~~~~~

Light

The night has a thousand eyes,
The day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When it's love is done.

~Francis W. Bourdillon~