REGRETS

New Zealand Graphic, Volume X, Issue 11, 18 March 1893, Page 250

REGRETS

Written for the Christmas Number of the • North Queensland Register.’

(BY

W. THOMPSON.)

Oh 1 would that I had known, then had I lived

The days of youth, not idly dreamed the hours In vain and useless questioning; nor grieved For that which is be> ond mere mortal powers To know or understand. The Present dowers

Mankind with life enough without the Past; And that * which is to be * will be ; not ours Omniscience, to fathom schemes so vast, The Chalice of Eternity may not be drunk in haste.

Thus never to have lived— to have denied My heart the love by which a life is crowned, For vain ambitions thoughtand earth so wide A sphere of beauty, wherein joys abound Ami self so strong. O silly fool! profound Indeed the wisdom of the haughty mind ; Contented with an echo, a faint sound From all Life's wondrous chimes; which could not find The living harmonies that every breath resigned.

The humblest eotter working on the soil, Glad in the joys of home and love and wife, Thankful for evening—happy in his toil; Hath fathomed deeper in this ocean—Life, Then thou with all thy questioning and strife. He sought not * why. ’ He only knows * what is ’ En< ngh to satisfy. Earth is not rife For him with problems— * How and why of this,’ It is enough for him to own his simple bliss. The happy prattle of his baby child Meets hie return and begs the ready knee; His gude-wife’s kiss—her look so soft and mild Speak the sweet welcome, * 1 am glad for thee, And thankful for the hour « hich sets thee free,’ The peaceful languor of the tired frame, The setting sun—the closit.g day— the lea ‘ Where winds the lowing held,’—all ftee from blame Hath life one meaning more in honours, wealth, or lame?

Would I had been the simple childlike soul That knows naught of the deep curse of unrest; That lives and loves, then passes to the goal Ordained of God and deems that lite is blessed— For him such canker gnaws not in the breast— Then would the joys of peace and innocence Have sweetened lite and added each their zest To tranquil days; have banished from hence This painful prying thought and restlessness intense.

Such, my regrets I But he who wrecks his Past Is not the master of his present hour; We are what we have been, until at last All hope of change is lost, for lost the power— The past is like a garden where some flower Hath bloomed and flourished with a wanton pride The summer through, then by and bye the sower Will gather in the seeds, ere autumntide ; Alas I They are self sown and scattered far and wide.