 | Life and Literary Remains of L. E. L. |  |
EXPERIENCE TOO LATE.
It is the past that maketh my despair;The dark, the sad, the irrevocable past.
Alas? why should our lot in life be made,
Before we know that life? Experience comes,
But comes too late. If I could now recall
All that I now regret, how different
Would be my choice! at best a choice of ill;
But better than my miserable past.
Loathed, yet despised, why must I think of it?
| Life and Literary Remains of L. E. L. | |