But that ’tis I who once—’tis this that stings—
Once dwelt within the gate that angels guard,
Where yet I’d be had I but heavenly wings.
42
When I see childhood on the threshold seize
The prize of life from age and likelihood,
I mourn time’s change that will not be withstood,
Thinking how Christ said Be like one of these.
For in the forest among many trees
Scarce one in all is found that hath made good