Blind multitudes that jar confusedly <br />At strife, earth's children, will ye never rest <br />From toils made hateful here, and dawns distressed <br />With ravelling self-engendered misery? <br />And will ye never know, till sleep shall see. <br />Your graves, how dreadful and how dark indeed <br />Are pride, self-will, and blind-voiced anger, greed, <br />And malice with its subtle cruelty? <br /> <br />How beautiful is gentleness, whose face <br />Like April sunshine, or the summer rain, <br />Swells everywhere the buds of generous thought? <br />So easy, and so sweet it is; its grace <br />Smoothes out so soon the tangled knots of pain. <br />Can ye not learn it? will ye not be taught?<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gentleness-4/
