Fools! must we ever quarrel with our fate,
Too late
Reading the worth of what we did despise,
And wise
At the journey's end to weep it scarce begun
When done?
No more! 'Tis ever the same story told
As of old.
Children, we used to wish our childhood past:
At last
It ended, as this journey ends, and we
Are free.
Shall we lament? It were an idle tale
To wail.
Can we be wise? Oh wisdom comes too late,
And fate
Answers our wicked prayer for liberty:
``Good--bye.''
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
