O that one unguarded moment! / Were it mine to live again, / All the strength of its temptation / Would appeal to me in vain.
Do we call the star lost that is hidden / In the great light of morn?
All the great blessings of my life are present in my thoughts today
And never since harvests were ripened, / Or laborers born, / Have men gathered figs of the thistle, / Or grapes of the thorn!
For of all hard things to bear and grin, / The hardest is knowing you're taken in.
But alas for the dreams that round us play! / For the plans of mortal making! / And alas for the false and fickle day / That looked so fair at waking!