I HAVE paid well for every sin And blotted out the score; So great I made my punishment -- Not God could make it more. But these no man calls sin -- too small For penance or regret -- The tardy thought, the careless kiss, The groping hand unmet. The sorrow that I left unsoothed, The word I left unsaid, -- Ah me! I know what ghosts must stand About my dying bed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INVOCATION [TO LOVE] by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 24 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN IMAGES: 3 by RICHARD ALDINGTON THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 10. THE RAILWAY BOOM, 1845 by T. BAKER |