All in the dark we grope alongAnd if we go amissWe learn at least which path is wrong,And there is gain in this.We do not always win the raceBy only running right,We have to tread the mountain's baseBefore we reach its height.But he who loves himself the lastAnd knows the use of pain,Though strewn with errors all his past, He surely shall attain.Some souls there are that needs must tasteOf wrong, ere choosing right;We should not call those years ...