For every gain there seems to be a loss, And all our joy is punctured with some grief; Each crown of triumph has a heavy cross, From greatest pain there always comes relief. One for the care of others gives his time, Sad slights the talent that was his by birth, Another choosing his own path to climb Finds loneliness all his judged gift is worth. We cannot lose what we have never had, Our very loss means we possession know, And how much better to have once been glad Than have felt neither happiness nor woe Sometimes we forget when sorrow comes unforeseen The greater the loss the greater the gain has been. |