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Title: Ingratitude
Author: Hannah S. Battersby [
More Titles by Battersby]
Ingratitude! gaunt spectre of the mind,
That is to every generous impulse blind,
Offspring of nature's callous, cold and stern,
Where selfishness and censure reign by turn.
Hideous these spectres to the mental sight,
Black as the sable pall of darkest night,
As they await the summons of the mind,
That sends them forth to sting and wound mankind.
In cold response to acts of kindness born,
Ingratitude replies with scathing scorn,
Inflicting through these imps uncalled for pain,
And treating sympathy with cold disdain.
Not only torturing others, they invent
New tortures for the one by whom they're sent,
Inflicting most excruciating pain,
During their diabolical black reign.
Like you the picture, callous, selfish man!
If not, then shun its likeness, while you can;
Let truth and justice triumph over hate,
And rise triumphant to a happier state.
Displace the imps ingratitude convokes,
By love-winged sprites that gratitude evokes;
Open thy mind to kindnesses received,
And be no longer blindly self-deceived.
For gratitude has angels at command,
Which form an ever ready willing band,
To fly on missions of all-conquering grace,
As from their path those hideous imps they chase.
For darkness cannot live where there is light,
And so these imps detested take their flight,
Before the glories of this angel band,
They could not for a single moment stand.
And the sweet balm these love-winged sprites convey,
Strengthens and cheers recipients on their way;
Blessing the sender no less than the one
Who thus receives the grateful tribute won.
Besides, one good and self-denying deed,
To many others must in order lead,
And the sweet gratitude that they evoke,
Will other loving kindnesses provoke.
Oh, why should we refuse Heaven's proffered chance
To universal happiness enhance,
By doing unto others as we, too,
Would wish that they to our own selves should do.
If we could only make this law our care,
What untold blessings might we daily share,
For every effort through this guidance made,
Would be by heaven most graciously repaid.
One firm step forward in the right path makes
The next more easy, and fresh courage wakes,
While the sweet power of conquering bestows
Accumulating interest as it grows.
And so the proudest warrior is he
Who governs self with strict fidelity,
While the bright laurels which he gams will last,
When all earth's bloody victories are past.
[The end]
Hannah S. Battersby's poem: Ingratitude
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