"E. Nesbit" which has haunted me all my life, a poem I shall beg leave
to quote here, because, though it is to be found in that poet's volume,
it is not, I believe, as well known as it deserves to be by those who
need its lesson. I quote it, too, from memory, so I trust that the
length of time I have remembered it may be set to my credit against any
verbal mistakes I make.

"If, on some balmy summer night,
You rowed across the moon path white,
And saw the shining sea grow fair
With silver scales and golden hair,
What would you do?"

"I would be wise
And shut my ears and shut my eyes,
Lest I should leap into the tide
And clasp the seamaid as I died."

"But if you thus were strong to flee
From sweet spells woven of moon and sea,
Are you quite sure that you would reach,
Without one backward look, the beach?"

"I might look back, my dear, and then
Row straight into the snare again,
Or, if I safely got away--
Regret it to my dying day."

He who liveth his life shall live it. It is a grave error to give
ourselves grudgingly to our experiences. Only in a whole-hearted