English poem
Lost Blisses
by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy (1844–1881)
Think, O Heart, what sweet—had you waited A moment, on such a day— Had yet been to do or to say That shall never be said now or done!
Think what beautiful worlds uncreated The clouds then bore back to the sun; What blisses were all frustrated; What loves, that were almost begun!
Think, O Life,—had your stream but drifted To this or that holier Past, Or Future that must come at last— Think, O sorrowful Life, and repent—
How the sorrowful days had been gifted With solace and ravishment, And year after year slowly lifted To heavens of golden content!