MAGIC for fitful souls whose aim is still <br />Pleasures that forfeit not the mansions blest, <br />Who deem themselves absolved to approve the best . <br />While they, protesting hate, pursue the ill; <br />Who lack strength to attain or else lack will <br />To keep what was their will's supreme behest; <br />Daring in dreams but fearful of the test <br />When Time and Fate their dearest wish fulfil. <br />I will not taste of thy pale anodyne; <br />I will not alter, listening to a voice <br />That tells me joys immortal may be mine <br />Were I but traitor to my clearest choice. <br />Courage I count above all gifts of thine <br />Courage or to refrain or to rejoice.<br /><br />Alice Duer Miller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-remorse/
