Back
The Sin of Omission
It isn't the thing you do, dear,
Its the thing you leave undone
That gives you a bit of a heartache
At setting of the sun.
The tender work forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flowers you did not send, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts at night.
The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brother's way;
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle, winning tone
Which you had no time nor thought for
With troubles enough of your own.
Those little acts of kindness
So easily out of mind,
Those chances to be angels
Which we poor mortals find
They come in night and silence,
Each sad, reproachful wraith,
When hope is faint and flagging,
And a chill has fallen on faith.
For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all to great,
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late:
And it isn't the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
|
About Margaret E. Sangster (1838- 1912) |
|
Margaret Sangster was born in New York into a deeply religious family and had her education mostly at home. Sangster's talent was evident even at her young age. At 17, her short story entitled “Little Janney” were published – winning her commission to write 100 children stories. At this tender age she had also began to contribute to leading periodicals of her day. Sangster gave up writing when she married George Sangster. After his death,she resumed writing and became editors to several publications. A member of the Dutch Reformed Church, Sangster was also fond of children and had written many children books in her lifetime. She was considered a great female writer of her day – not only for her literary works but also for her religious activities as well. She died in New Jersey. |
