A good friend sent me some words from a couple of verses yesterday which rang true for both of us. Me because of all that has happened in the last month and what I am about to do this weekend and her because of a couple of life events that have happened to another friend of hers. The first is from a birthday card (not sure where she buys her birthday cards, but I need to get down there).
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did.
So throw off the bowlines.
Sail away from the safe harbour
Catch the trade winds in your sails.
Explore.
Dream.
Discover.
And the second:
It isn't the things you do dear;
It's the things you leave undone,
That give you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun...
These words are by Margaret Sangster, from the Sin of Omission. I googled it and this is the full version:
"The Sin Of Omission"
by Margaret Sangster
It isn't the thing you do, dear;
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
The tender word forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flower you might have sent, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts to-night.
The stone you might have lifted
Out of brother's way,
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle and winsome tone,
That you had no time nor thought for,
With troubles enough of your own.
The little acts of kindness,
So easily out of mind;
Those chances to be angels
Which every one may find
They come in night and silence
Each chill, reproachful wraith
When hope is faint and flagging
And a blight has dropped on faith.
For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all too great;
To suffer our great compassion
That tarries until too late;
And it's not the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you the bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
It isn't the thing you do, dear;
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
The tender word forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flower you might have sent, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts to-night.
The stone you might have lifted
Out of brother's way,
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle and winsome tone,
That you had no time nor thought for,
With troubles enough of your own.
The little acts of kindness,
So easily out of mind;
Those chances to be angels
Which every one may find
They come in night and silence
Each chill, reproachful wraith
When hope is faint and flagging
And a blight has dropped on faith.
For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all too great;
To suffer our great compassion
That tarries until too late;
And it's not the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you the bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
These words help me understand some of the things I do, need to do and why I am going to see S tomorrow.
I intend to have a good time, to enjoy what I have. I don't know what the future holds, but I don't think that I will stop me living in this moment.
Hi Joolz, great poem, very powerful words.
ReplyDeleteGood luck at weekend!
DF
Wow, powerful indeed!! Thank you for inspiring me this morning.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy and enjoy what adventures come!!
Hugs,
Fiona