If it were in my dead Past-s power
To let my Present bask
In some lost pleasure for an hour,
This is the boon I-d ask:

Re-pedestal from out the dust
Where long ago -twas hurled,
My beautiful incautious trust
In this unworthy world.

The symbol of my souls own truth -
I saw it go with tears -
The sweet unwisdom of my youth -
That vanished with the years.

Since knowledge brings us only grief,
I would return again
To happy ignorance and belief
In motives and in men.

For worldly wisdom learned in pain
Is in itself a cross,
Significant mayhap of gain,
Yet sign of saddest loss.