From ImmortalPoetry
Jump to navigationJump to search

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

   An unkind tale was whispered in his ear.
      He paused to hear.
   His thoughts were food that helped a falsehood thrive,
      And keep alive.

   Years dawned and died. One day by venom’s tongue
      His name was stung.
   He cried aloud, nor dreamed the lie was spawn
      Of thoughts long gone.

   Each mental wave we send out from the mind,
      Or base, or kind,
   Completes its circuit, then with added force
      Seeks its own source.


Add your comment
ImmortalPoetry welcomes all comments. If you do not want to be anonymous, register or log in. It is free.