— PS —To a Very Tittle GirlDear Janet:When they scolded you last nightAnd then furiously sent you offTo bed, you looked at us with eyesSwimming with silent reproach . , .They seemed to ask, “Is it rightThat I am being punished justBecause I merely told the truth?I (I'm ashamed to admit),Avoided your glance ...You’d made some childishComment, quite cruelly frank,About the size of your uncle’sNose, or else the way that RuthHeld her cup while she drankHer tea . . . (I’ve since forgottenJust exactly which it was.)How could I tell you thatSincerity can often wound,That as you grow older you’llLearn that black isn’t alwaysBlack, and white isn’t always white,That sometimes those little lies Are known, among adults, as polite Veneering of the painful truth?You mustn’t hurt people,Janet.AGNES TIGHE.