There's nothing so sad as the sadness that comes
when we think of the chance we've lost -
The big opportunities we have let slide -
and discovered too late, to our cost.
We might have done this, and we might have done that-
idle words, for they haven't the power,
to bring back again opportunities lost -
or restore to us one little hour. . .
Yes, it's useless to think of the things that we've missed;
there is only one thing left to do -
Make the most of each moment and take what it gives -
disappointment and happiness too.
And if Fate knocks you down with a shattering blow -
it may be your big chance in disguise -
If you stand up and meet it with courage and faith,
looking onward with bright, fearless eyes . . .
Worth Thinking Of
If we sit down at set of sun
And count the things that we have done,
And counting find
One self-denying act, one word
That eased the heart of him who heard,
One glance most kind.
That fell like sunshine where it went.
Then we may count the day well spent.
The Moments You Spend
Poet: Everett W. Hill
One task at a time without worry or fear;
One day at a time though the morrow draws near;
One deed well accomplished suffices the day;
Start not many missions, take time out to play.
You can't borrow sunlight from night's open door;
One task and one day is enough to explore.
Make every hour count in the moments you spend —
Tomorrow's a stranger; Today is a, friend.
Two And One
Two ears and only one mouth have you;
The reason, I think, is clear:
It teaches, my child, that it will not do
To talk about all you hear.
Two eyes and only one mouth have you;
The reason of this must be,
That you should learn that it will not do
To talk about all you see.
Two hands and only one mouth have you;
And it is worth while repeating:
The two are for work you will have to do —
The one is enough for eating.
We are but minutes — little things,
Each one furnished with sixty wings,
With which we fly on our unseen track,
And not a minute ever comes back.
We are but minutes — yet each one bears
A little burden of joys and cares.
Patiently take the minutes of pain —
The worst of minutes cannot remain.
We are but minutes — when we bring
A few of the drops from pleasure's spring,
Taste their sweetness while we stay —
It takes but a minute to fly away.
We are but minutes — use us well,
For how we are used we must one day tell;
Who uses minutes has hours to use —
Who loses minutes whole years must lose.