IN PRAISE OF HIS FATE br When I hear others speak of this and that br In our fools' lives which might have better gone, br Complaining idly of too niggard fate br And wishing still their senseless past undone, br I feel a childish tremor through me run, br Stronger than reason, lest by some far chance br Fate's ear to our sad plaints should yet be won br And these our lives be thrown back on our hands. br I tremble when I think of my past years, br My hopes, my aims, my wishes. All these days br I might have wandered far from Love and thee.