Song of Endeavor
Tis not by wishing that we gain the prize, Nor yet by ruing,
But from our falling, learning how to rise, And tireless doing.
The idols broken, nor our tears and sighs, May yet restore them.
Regret is only 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’s 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 to-day To stillness whiling,
Let us in some pure purpose find the way To future smiling.
James W. Foley.