LibriVox volunteers bring you 16 recordings of Be Kind When You Can by Eliza Cook (1818-1889). This was the Weekly Poetry project for January 30 – February 6th, 2011.
Eliza Cook was an English author, Chartist poet and writer born in London Road, Southwark.
She was the daughter of a local tradesman. She attended the local Sunday Schools and was encouraged by the son of the music master to produce her first volume of poetry. From this she took confidence and in 1837 began to offer verse to the radical Weekly Dispatch, then edited by William Johnson Fox. She was a staple of its pages for the next ten years. She also offered material to The Literary Gazette, Metropolitan Magazine and New Monthly. (summary from Wikipedia)
NOTE:- I have not recorded for this project, please download the entire book to listen to this poem by other Librivox’ers. Thanks.
Be Kind When You Can
Be kind when you can, though the kindness be little,
‘Tis small letters make up philosophers’ scrolls;
The crystal of Happiness, vivid and brittle,
Can seldom be cut into very large bowls.
‘Tis atoms that dwell in the measureless mountain,
‘Tis moments that sum up the century’s flight;
‘Tis but drops that unite in Niagara’s fountain,
‘Tis rays, single rays, from the harvest-sun light.
Stone by stone builds the temple that rises in glory,
Inch by inch grows the child till maturity’s prime;
The jewels so famous in bright, Eastern story
Have been nursed, tint by tint, in the blossom of Time.
‘Tis grains make the desert-sheet, trackless and spreading;
‘Tis but petals that deck every blossom-twinned spray;
There are leaves – only leaves – where the forest is shedding
Its gloom till the density shuts out the day.
A word or a glance which we give “without thinking”,
May shadow or lighten some sensitive breast;
And the draught from the well-spring is wine in the drinking,
If quaffed from the brim that Affection has blest.
Then be kind when you can in the smallest of duties,
Don’t wait for the larger expressions of Love;
For the heart depends less for its joys and its beauties
On the flight of the Eagle than coo of the Dove.
This week’s poem can be found here.