<h2><SPAN name="poem48"></SPAN>SORRY</h2>
<p class="poetry">There is much that makes me sorry as I journey
down life’s way,<br/>
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human lives each day.<br/>
I’m sorry for the strong, brave men who shield the weak
from harm,<br/>
But who, in their own troubled hours, find no protecting arm.</p>
<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the victors who have
reached success, to stand<br/>
As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s
hand.<br/>
I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely shared their
wine,<br/>
But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s drear
decline.</p>
<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the souls who build their own
fame’s funeral pyre,<br/>
Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding fire.<br/>
I’m sorry for the conquering ones who know not sin’s
defeat,<br/>
But daily tread down fierce desire ’neath scorched and
bleeding feet.</p>
<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that
break with passion’s strain,<br/>
But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew
love’s pain,<br/>
Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they
crave,<br/>
For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a grave.</p>
<p class="poetry">I’m sorry for the souls that come
unwelcomed into birth,<br/>
I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the earth,<br/>
I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great
maelstrom hurled—<br/>
In truth, I’m sorry for them all who make this aching
world.</p>
<p class="poetry">But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not
understood,<br/>
I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty germ of good.<br/>
And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, motto,
text—<br/>
The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest in the
next.</p>
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