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.