Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments II.pdf/27



How often, in this cold and bitter world, Is the warm heart thrown back upon itself! Cold, careless, are we of another's grief; We wrap ourselves in sullen selfishness: Harsh-judging, narrow-minded, stern and chill In measuring every action but our own. How small are some men's motives, and how mean! There are who never knew one generous thought; Whose heart-pulse never quickened with the joy Of kind endeavour, or sweet sympathy.— There are too many such!