There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey <br /> down life’s way. <br />And I seem to see more pathos in poor human <br /> Lives each day. <br />I’m sorry for the strong brave men, who shield <br /> the weak from harm, <br />But who, in their own troubled hours find no <br /> Protecting arm. <br /> <br />I’m sorry for the victors who have reached <br /> success, to stand <br />As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s <br /> hand. <br />I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely <br /> shared their wine, <br />But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s <br /> drear decline. <br /> <br />I’m sorry for the souls who build their own fame’s <br /> funeral pyre, <br />Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding <br /> fire. <br />I’m sorry for the conquering ones tho know not <br /> sin’s defeat, <br />But daily tread down fierce desire ‘neath scorched <br /> and bleeding feet. <br /> <br />I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that break with <br /> passions strain, <br />But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that <br /> Never knew love’s pain. <br />Who hunger on through barren years not tasting <br /> joys they crave, <br />For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a <br /> grave. <br /> <br />I’m sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed <br /> into birth, <br />I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the <br /> earth. <br />I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great <br /> maelstrom hurled, <br />In truth I’m sorry for them all who make this <br /> aching world. <br /> <br />But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not <br /> understood, <br />I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty <br /> germ of good. <br />And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, <br /> motto, text – <br />The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest <br /> in the next.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sorry-3/
