Owen Meredith describes it in a poem, every verse of which throbs with hopeless love and regret, and one of which teaches a lesson so much needed by us all that we would do well to commit to memory the last two lines, and repeat them almost hourly: "I thought of our little quarrels and strife, And the letter that brought me back my ring; _And it all seemed then, in the waste of life, Such a very little thing!_".