IT is the past that maketh my despair; The dark, the sad, the irrevocable past. Alas! why should our lot in life be made, Before we know that life? Experience comes, But comes too late. If I could now recall All that I now regret, how different Would be my choice! at best a choice of ill; But better than my miserable past. Loathed, yet despised, why must I think of it? |