from The Land of Beginning Again
By Louisa Fletcher Tarkington
I wish there were some wonderful place
Called the Land of Beginning Again,
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches,
And all our poor, selfish grieves
Could be dropped, like a shabby old coat, at the
door,
And never put on again.
We would find the things we intended to do,
But forgot and remembered too late-
Little praises unspoken, little promises broken,
And all of the thousand and one
Little duties neglected that might have perfected
The days of one less fortunate.
So I wish that there were some wonderful place
Called the Land of Beginning Again,
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches,
And all our poor, selfish grieves
Could be dropped, like a ragged old coat, at the
door,
And never put on again.
