Explore "More Fortunate" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I hold that life more fortunate by far / That sits with its sweet memories alone / And cherishes a joy for ever flown / Beyond the reach of accident to mar. / (Some joy that was extinguished like a star) / Than that which makes the prize so much its own / That its poor commonplacenesses are shown; / (Which in all things, when viewed too closely, are.)
Better to mourn a blossom snatched away / Before it reached perfection, than behold / With dry, unhappy eyes, day after day, / The fresh bloom fade, and the fair leaf decay. / Better to lose the dream, with all its gold, / Than keep it till it changes to dull grey.