It was _only_ a blossom,
Just the merest bit of bloom,
But it brought a glimpse of summer
To the little darkened room.
It was _only_ a glad "good morning,"
As she passed along the way;
But it spread the morning's glory
Over the livelong day.
_Only_ a song; but the music,
Though simply pure and sweet,
Brought back to better pathways
The reckless roving feet.
"_Only_," in our blind wisdom,
How dare we say at all?
Since the ages alone can tell us
Which is the great or small.