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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=393088" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Too Late</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HOPE? What! hope !—you say there is hope for the long-lost one!<br>Hope! when the light is out; hope! when the oil is done;<br>Hope! No, no, good lady! no hope for me, at least;<br>No home for me but the clammy grave when life has ceased.<br>Hope! Well, there might have been hope had my mother lived; but, then,<br>5<br>God struck her dead, and I was left alone among men.<br>God knows how I loved her; and shall I never see her again?<br>Is there no glimpse of heaven for those who are doomed to pain?<br>Oh, cannot she come and kiss me? Oh, cannot she pray by my side,<br>As she did long ago on that terrible evening before she died?<br>10<br>If she prayed God would hear her, and perhaps—but no;<br>I'm too old a sinner for mercy—there is nothing for me but woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You say that I yet could be saved if I sorrowed for my sin;<br>That the Lord is at heaven's gate to take poor sinners in!<br>God knows that I hate my sin, but I feel that it cannot be;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">15<br>I've so often forsaken Him, that He must have forsaken me.<br>Nay, don't offer a prayer for me, lady, it's only mocking at God:<br>Who knows but my tired heart still may rest beneath the sod?<br>For I always loved the sunny fields and the sweet, sweet flowers,<br>And longed to be pure once again like them, in my better hours.<br>20</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But after I first had fallen the devil opened my eyes,<br>And I saw that the world knew my shame, and I hadn't the heart to rise;<br>So I gave up trying to be good, and sank down lower in sin,<br>Tho' the thought of poor dead mother made me always hate it within.<br>Oh, many's the night that I've wandered about thro' rain and snow,<br>25<br>Wandered about in the street, and didn't know where had to go;<br>And I've often crept to the river and looked at it, still and black,<br>And thought how every one spurned me—but something held me back.<br>I remember how once, when I stopped, half-dead, one rainy day,<br>To rest on his steps for a moment, the servants drove me away;<br>30<br>Drove me away like a dog from the door of the man for whom,<br>O God! I had given up all in this world and beyond the tomb.<br>But don't weep at my story, good lady; I'm not worth it living or dead!<br>Ha, ha! I'm not frightened of Death, nor the devils that dance round my bed:<br>There cannot be any hell deeper nor fuller of devils and strife<br>35<br>Than the hell that burns in my heart, and the fire that eats out life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Frederick+George+Scott">Frederick George Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=393088" data-title="Too Late de Frederick George Scott" data-description="HOPE? What! hope !—you say there is hope for the long-lost one!
Hope! when the light is out; hope! when the oil is done;
Hope! No, no, good lady! no hope for me, at least;
No home for me but the clammy grave when life has ceased.
Hope! Well, the..."></div>
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