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Poem by Louisa Sarah Bevington


Without Regret


OH, when have after-days or evenings brought
Forgiveness home to penitence downcast?
Oh, when has trust been perfect,--honour fast,--
But fault or fate have made it all of nought?
What joy of ours is tinged not with a thought
Of future emptiness, or wasted past?--
What sorrow ever seems to be the last?--
What treasure found compares with treasure sought?

In pale fruition we shall ne'er forget
The splendid dream our eagerness did make;
A shadow lies on all things;--let us take
Our share, and battle on a little yet.
Friend, keep my hand! let friendship never break;
Let one thing be at least "without regret."



Louisa Sarah Bevington


Louisa Sarah Bevington's other poems:
  1. Merle Wood
  2. Her Worst and Best
  3. Steel or Gold?
  4. Not Ye Who Goad
  5. Egoisme a Deux


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