Slander

'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.