It Can't But Hurt
The halls are wide with voices strange,
A thousand eyes, a sudden change—
The tender heart must walk alone,
Among the desks not yet their own.
The girls with laughter like a tide,
The boys with restless steps of pride,
All moving swift, all seeming sure,
While shy ones falter, insecure.
It can’t but hurt to find no friend,
To watch the morning slow descend,
To feel the silence press like stone,
And dream of places once well-known.
Yet in the crowd a glance may start,
A gentle smile can heal the heart—
Though change is sharp and full of fear,
New roots will grow, and friends appear.
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