There is a haunting phantom called Regret,
A shadowy creature robed somewhat like Wo,
But fairer in the face, whom all men know
By her sad mien, and eyes forever wet.
No heart would seek her; but once having met
All take her by the hand, and to and fro
They wander through those paths of long ago--
Those hallowed ways 'twere wiser to forget.
One day she led me to that lost land's gate
And bade me enter; but I answered "No!
I will pass on with my bold comrade Fate;
I have no tears to waste on thee--no time--
My strength I hoard for heights I hope to climb,
No friend art thou, for souls that would be great."
Poems of Passion by Ella Wheeler
Chicago : Belford, Clarke & Co, 1883.
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