Opportunity
They do me wrong to say I come no more
When once I knock and fail to find you in;
For every day I stand outside your door
And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win.
Wail not for precious chances passed away!
Weep not for golden ages on the wane!
Each night I burn the records of the day-
At sunrise every soul is born again!
Dost thou behold thy righteous retribution's blow?
Then turn from blotted archives of the past
And find the future's pages white as snow.
Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell;
Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven;
Each morning gives thee wings to fly from hell,
Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven.
Laugh like a boy at splendours that have sped,
To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb,
But never bind a moment yet to come.
Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep;
I lend my arm to all who say, "I can!"
No shame-faced outcast ever sank so deep,
But yet might rise again and be a man!
by Walter Malone
