Mischief Making

Only a tiny dropping
From a tiny hidden leak ;
But the flow is never stopping,
And the flaw is far to seek.

Only some trickling water,
Nothing at all at first ;
But it grows to a valley-slaughter,
For the reservoir has burst !

The wild flood once in motion,
Who shall arrest its course ?
As well restrain the ocean
As that ungoverned force !

Mourn for the desolations,
And help the ruined men,
Till next spring's fair creations
Make the valley smile again.

Help with a free, pure pity,
For your hands in this are clean,
You dwelt in the far-off city,
With many a mile between.

You did not watch the flowing
Of the treacherous, trickling rill :
You did not aid the growing
Of the tiny rifts in the hill.

What if you had ? I leave it,
It is too dark a thought ;
How could the heart conceive it ?
How came it, all unsought ?

A look of great affliction,
As you tell what one told you,
With a feeble contradiction,
Or a' hope it is not true !'

A story quite too meagre
For naming any more,
Only your friend seems eager
To know a little more.

No doubt of explanation,
If all was known, you see ;
One might get information
From Mrs. A. or B.

Only some simple queries
Passed on from tongue to tongue
Though the ever-growing series
Has out of nothing sprung.

Only a faint suggestion,
Only a doubtful hint,
Only a leading question
With a special tone or tint.

Only a low' I wonder !'
Nothing unfair at all ;
But the whisper grows to thunder,
And a scathing bolt may fall ;

And a good ship is dismasted,
And hearts are like to break,
And a Christian life is blasted,
For a scarcely-guessed mistake !