Be kind when you can, though the kindness be little,
'Tis small letters make up philosophers' scrolls;
The crystal of Happiness, vivid and brittle,
Can seldom be cut into very large bowls.
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There is a typo in this poem. I have checked in the archives of an old volume of her works found on Archive.org. the last line of the third stanza should be bosom of time not blossom of time.
Stone by stone builds the temple that rises in glory, Inch by inch grows the child till maturity's prime; The jewels so famous in bright, Eastern story Have been nursed, tint by tint, in the blossom of Time. very fine poem. tony