There are no second chances in life$$$ except to feel remorse.

Out-worn heart$$$ in a time out-worn$$$ <br>Come clear of the nets of wrong and right; <br>Laugh$$$ heart$$$ again in the gray twilight$$$ <br>Sigh$$$ heart$$$ again in the dew of the morn.

All our lives$$$ we long$$$ we long$$$ thinking it is the moon we long for. So how$$$ when we meet it in the shape of a most fair woman$$$ can we do less than leave all others for her?

The wandering earth herself may be<br>Only a sudden flaming word$$$<br>In clanging space a moment heard$$$<br>Troubling the endless reverie.

. . . after twenty centuries of stony sleep$$$ what rough beast$$$ its hour come round at last$$$ slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?

I heard an old religious man<br>But yesternight declare<br>That he had found a text to prove<br>That only God$$$ my dear$$$<br>Could love you for yourself alone<br>And not your yellow hair.

It's a long lane that has no turning.

Time drops in decay<br>Like a candle burnt out.<br>And the mountains and woods<br>Have their day$$$ have their day;<br>But$$$ kindly old rout<br>Of the fire-born moods$$$<br>You pass not away.

The intellect of man is forced to choose<br>Perfection of the life$$$ or of the work<br>And if it take the second must refuse<br>A heavenly mansion$$$ raging in the dark.

Now that my ladder's gone$$$<br>I must lie down where all my ladders start$$$<br>In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart.