Poems (Denver)/Regrets

by Mary Caroline Denver

REGRETS.

Forever here—however bright
 The morn of life may be,
However swift our bark may glide
 O'er pleasure's sunny sea,
A shadow follows in our steps,
 And speaks imploringly.

Of lost affections hear it speak,
 Such as the world ne'er gave,
Torn ruthlessly from out the heart
 That could, and would not, save:
It wraps a shroud around them all,
 And drops them in the grave.

And from their dust strange faces rise,
 All cheerless and alone,
That murmur in our ears a changed
 And yet familiar tone,
And phantoms wander by our side,
 And make our walks their own.

No matter whether in the sun,
 Or 'neath the greenwood tree;
No matter howsoever light
 Or stern our mood may be;
That shadow follows in our steps,
 And speaks continually.

Of wasted moments hear it tell,
 Thrown by neglectfully,
And thickly as the dry, dull sands
 Along a summer-sea—
Ah! shining dust, how rich were all,
 Could ye but gathered be!

But gone forever from the shore
 Of careless human life,
Untasted joys that keep no more
 The cup of feeling rife;
We catch at shadows and lose all
 The substance in the strife.

So toil we on from hour to hour,
 Still fearful of delay,
Dropping at every step some flower
 That cheer'd us on the way,
And gathering tears within our hearts
 To shed another day.

Yet still, at every step we take,
 By shore or sunny sea,
When life is wrapped in weariness,
 When life is bounding free,
That shadow follows in our steps,
 And speaks reproachfully.