Slander - Poem by Jean Blewett
He does the devil's basest work, no less,
Who deals in calumnies-who throws the mire
On snowy robes whose hem he dare not press
His foul lips to. The pity of it! Liar,
Yet half believed by such as deem the good
Or evil but the outcome of a mood.
That one who, with the breath lent him by Heaven,
Speaks words that on some white soul do reflect,
Is lost to decency, and should be driven
Outside the pale of honest men's respect.
O slanderer, hell's imps must say of you:
'He does the work we are ashamed to do!'
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