XLV: Regret

Within a forest, full of life, I worked,

oblivious to all that I could see.

Before me, every living thing I shirked,

and every real thing was but naught to me.

My work was all, and all that I desired,

but I had failed to keep a good thing straight:

the Master of my task my heart required,

but not expensing all on whom I wait.

Too late is now the hour for me to mend

the weary souls who ventured with me then.

So all such hopes to higher things now bend,

while now I love each life within my ken.

Behold no work but that which doeth good

to neighbors and to all whereat you’re stood.