I was reading in an old poetry book today and I came across this poem. The author puts forth an interesting thought that, although we sometimes do things we regret, it’s really the things left undone that troubles us the most.
The Sin of Omission
It isn’t the thing you do, dear,
It’s the think you leave undone
That fives you a bit of a heartache
At the setting of the sun.
The tender word forgotten;
The letter you did not write;
The flowers you did not send, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts at night.
The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brother’s way;
The bit of hearthstone counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle, winning tone
Which you had not time nor thought for
With troubles enough of your own.
Those little acts of kindness
So easily out of mind,
These chances to be angels
Which we poor mortals find–
They come in night and silence,
Each sad, reproachful wraith,
When hope is faint and flagging
And a chill has fallen on faith.
For life is all to short, dear,
And sorrow is all too great,
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late;
And it isn’t the thing you do, dear,
It’s the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of a heartache
At the setting of the sun.
~Margaret E. Sangster
What did you think of the poem? Have you found that it’s the times you didn’t extend a helping hand when you could have that bother you the most?
Your Friend and Pep Pal,
Lauren
Yes I Can Pep Talks 