George Willis Cooke, comp. The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology. 1903.
The Things I missThomas Wentworth Higginson (18231911)
A
To thank Thee for these gifts of Thine!
For summer’s sunshine, winter’s snow,
For hearts that kindle, thoughts that glow.
But when shall I attain to this,—
To thank Thee for the things I miss?
The dreamed-of joys that still are dreams,
Hopes unfulfilled, and pleasures known
Through others’ fortunes, not my own,
And blessings seen that are not given,
And never will be, this side heaven.
Would there have been a heaven for me?
Could I have felt Thy presence near,
Had I possessed what I held dear?
My deepest fortune, highest bliss,
Have grown perchance from things I miss.
Grief turns to blessing, pain to balm;
A Power that works above my will
Still leads me onward, upward still.
And then my heart attains to this,—
To thank Thee for the things I miss.