Classic Poem

'Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize,
Nor yet by ruing,
But, from our fallings, learning how to rise,
And tireless doing.

The idols broken, not our tears and sighs
May yet restore them.
Regret is only food for fools; the wise
Look but before them.

Nor ever yet Success was wooed with tears;
To notes of gladness
Alone the fickle goddess turns her ears,
She hears not sadness.

The heart thrives not in the dull rain and mist
Of gloomy pining.
The sweetest flowers are the flowers sun-kissed,
Where glad light shining.

Look not behind thee; there is only dust
And vain regretting.
The lost tide ebbs; in the next flood thou must
Learn, by forgetting.

For the lost chances be ye not distressed
To endless weeping;
Be not the thrush that o'er the empty nest
Is vigil keeping.

But in new efforts our regrets today
To stillness whiling,
Let us in some pure purpose find the way
To future smiling.