‘Twas but a breath–
And yet the fair, good name was wilted;
And friends once fond grew cold and stilted,
And life was worse than death.
One venomed word,
That struck its coward, poisoned blow,
In craven whispers, hushed and low–
And yet the wide world heard.
‘Twas but one whisper–one,
That muttered low, for very shame,
The thing the slanderer dared not name–
And yet its work was done.
A hint so slight,
And yet so mighty in its power,
A human soul in one short hour
Lies crushed beneath its blight.
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