NOTHING IS LOST.
NOTHING is lost: the drop of dew
Which trembles on the leaf or flower
Is but exhaled to fall anew
In summer's thunder shower;
Perchance to shine within the bow
That fronts the sun at fall of day;
Perchance to sparkle in the flow
Of fountains far away.
So with our words, or harsh, or kind,
Uttered, they are not all forgot,
They leave their influence on the mind,
Pass on, but perish not;
As they are spoken, so they fall
Upon the spirit spoken to,
Scorch it like drops of burning gall,
Or soothe like honeydew.