"For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been! - John Greenleaf Whittier

Sweeter than any sung
My songs that found no tongue;
Nobler than any fact
My wish that failed of act. Others shall sing the song,
Others shall right the wrong,—
Finish what I begin,
And all I fail of win.

Methinks I see the sunset light flooding the river valley, the western hills stretching to the horizon, overhung with trees gorgeous and glowing with the tints of autumn — a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.

I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of God...
I know not where his islands lift
Their fronded palms in the air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond his love and care.