those dead yesterdays

life is best measured by the hopes we burn

through those dead yesterdays none could forget

times when the fattest were the most sharp set

which ended we wished would never return

still this is what each of us pays to learn

from that hard teacher whom we name regret

the many ways that life is overset

and those lost gifts for which we will long yearn

so let the drum beat none of us will leave

without a turn upon the judgment seat

so we gain wisdom from the hard result

although our purpose was not to deceive

we're forced unto it by the long defeat

which strips us of all reasons to exult