Remorse is memory awake,

Remorse is memory awake,
Her companies astir,—
A presence of departed acts
At window and at door.

It’s past set down before the soul,
And lighted with a match,
Perusal to facilitate
Of its condensed despatch.

Remorse is cureless,—the disease
Not even God can heal;
For ’t is his institution,—
The complement of hell.

Regret is incurable! It is his institution and the complement of Hell.

Regret is active memory,
Her carriers are all disturbed,—
We sense a presence of lost acts
At window and at door.

Its past is posted before the soul,
And lighted with a match,
To facilitate her inspection
Of its condensed document.

Regret is cureless disease
That even God cannot heal;
For it is his institution,—
The complement of hell.