Classic Poem

He walked the world with bended head.
“There is no thing,” he moaning said,
“That must not some day join the dead.”

He sat where rolled a river deep;
A woman sat her down to weep;
A child lay in her lap asleep.

The water touched the mother's hand.
His heart was touched. He passed from land,
But left it laughing in the sand.

That one kind word, that one good deed,
Was as if you should plant a seed
In sand along death's sable brede.

And looking from the farther shore
He saw, where he had sat before,
A light that grew, grew more and more.

He saw a growing, glowing throng
Of happy people white and strong
With faith, and jubilant with song.

It grew and grew, this little seed
Of good sown in that day of need,
Until it touched the stars indeed!

And then the old man smiling said,
With youthful heart and lifted head,
“No good deed ever joins the dead.”