My life is full of sad mistakes,--
    Today I was thinking about them,
And thinking of all that I might have been
    If I had but lived without them.
So many times have I laid my plan,
    Only to spoil it in doing;
And much of the work that the world calls good
    Has left me cause for rueing.

Each thing that I do is like the page
    Of a hurriedly written letter;--
Full of good thoughts perhaps, but the blots
    Prove that it might be better.
I have wished for the world's applause, and thought
    To make it praise and wonder,
But my noblest aim and best laid plan
    Was sure to be spoiled by a blunder.

I think I have lived too far from God,--
    Not that I ever doubt Him,
But feeling too sure of my strength, I've tried
    To do some things without Him.
And so we shall always make mistakes,
    And always our errors be rueing,
Until we reach up for the Guiding Hand,
    Whatever we may be doing.

Poems of reflection. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago, M.A. Donohue & company [c1905].

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