Little their little past they heed;
Therefore of twilight have no need.
Yet wherefore write I thus? In the short span
Of narrow life doled out to every man,
Though he but reach the threshold of the track,
Where from youth's better path, strikes out the worse,
If he has breathed so long, nor once look'd back,
He has not borne life's load, nor known God's curse.
And yet, but for that glance that o'er and o'er
Goes tearfully, where we shall go no more;