There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey down life’s way. And I seem to see more pathos in poor humanLives each day. I’m sorry for the strong brave men, who shieldthe weak from harm, But who, in their own troubled hours find no protecting arm. I’m sorry for the victors who have reachedsuccess, to stand as targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’shand. I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freelyshared their wine, But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’sdrear decline. I’m sorry for the souls who build their own fame’s funeral pyre, Derided by the scornful throng like ice deridingfire. I’m sorry for the conquering ones tho know notsin’s defeat, But daily tread down fierce desire ‘neath scorchedand bleeding feet. I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that break with passions strain, But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew love’s pain. Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they crave, For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a grave. I’m sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed into birth, I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up theearth. I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great maelstrom hurled, In truth I’m sorry for them all who make this aching world. But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not understood, I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty germ of good. And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, motto, text –The sorriest things in this life will seem grandestin the next.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox
