If it were in my dead Past?s power To let my Present bask In some lost pleasure for an hour, This is the boon I?d ask: Re-pedestal from out the dust Where long ago `twas hurled, My beautiful incautious trust In this unworthy world. The symbol of my souls own truth ? I saw it go with tears ? The sweet unwisdom of my youth ? That vanished with the years. Since knowledge brings us only grief, I would return again To happy ignorance and belief In motives and in men. For worldly wisdom learned in pain Is in itself a cross, Significant mayhap of gain, Yet sign of saddest loss.