Some time ago I read a poem (Frost?). The gist was, why do we always think of the right things to say, when it's to late? Please email if you can help. TIA. Roy.
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"Well, those days trouble Silas like a dream.
You wouldn't think they would. How some things linger!
Harold's young college boy's assurance piqued him.
After so many years he still keeps finding
Good arguments he sees he might have used.
I sympathise. I know just how it feels
To think of the right thing to say too late. "
If this is not the right poem, can you remember any outstanding words or phrases? Was the tone serious or more funny? (that can help to find the poet)