Profitless Pity

From The Times Dispatch, September 8, 1914.

We sigh for the man who might have been great
    If he only had tried in a sensible way;
We witness his fall and we pity his fate,
    We blame the foul chances that sent him astray;
We think of the wonders he never has done,
    We dismally speak of the talent he had,
And grievously, solemnly thinking him one
    Whom fortune has cheated, we murmur, “Too bad!”

We never waste sighs on the poor little man
    Who strives without talent, obscure and unschooled,
Who daily is doing the best that he can
    By worthiness urged and by decency ruled;
We never have pity for him as we pass
    Where, lacking fair gifts, he is trying to rise;
His case never moves us to murmur, “Alas!”
    No matter how bravely he manfully tries.

Ah well, perhaps heaven, when heaven is gained,
    Will furnish the gifts the unnoticed ones lack,
And there the ambitious who have not complained
    May win all their hopes and their eagerness back;
But never in heaven, if heaven is fair,
    May the talented ones who have fallen in shame
Partake of the glory the worthy may share
        Or find any joy in the city they claim.