Duty
By Phyllis Mendenhall
I cannot do the great things
That I should like to do
To make the earth forever fair,
The sky forever blue.
But I can do the small things
That help to make life sweet,
Though clouds arise to fill the skies,
And roughest tempests beat.
(1935)
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Comments are closed.
I programmed this at the beginning of the year for posting today, without, of course, knowing of Hurricanes Harvey and Irma, and the fires in the Western US, much less the metaphorical clouds and tempests. I suppose a poem like this is forever relevant.
This was a pleasant and mildly comforting poem to happen upon at day’s end. Thanks, Ardis.
Yes, I can.
What a lovely poem. It is the small things that we do that make the difference.