See how time makes all grief decay.

Do not look at life's long sorrow; see how small each moment's pain.

No star is lost once we have seen, We always may be what we might have been.

Each man has some part to play.

I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be a pleasant road.

Have we not all, amid life's petty strife, Some pure ideal of a noble life That once seemed possible? Did we not hear The flutter of its wings, and feel it near, And just within our reach? It was. And yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret, And now live idle in a vague regret; But still our place is kept, and it will wait, Ready for us to fill it, soon or late. No star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been.

I know too well the poison and the sting of things too sweet.