Well, Bokardo, here we are;
       &nbsp Make yourself at home.
Look around—you haven't far
       &nbsp To look—and why be dumb?
Not the place that used to be,
Not so many things to see;
But there's room for you and me.
       &nbsp And you—you've come.

Talk a little; or, if not,
       &nbsp Show me with a sign
Why it was that you forgot
       &nbsp What was yours and mine.
Friends, I gather, are small things
In an age when coins are kings;
Even at that, one hardly flings
       &nbsp Friends before swine.

Rather strong? I knew as much,
       &nbsp For it made you speak.
No offense to swine, as such,
       &nbsp But why this hide-and-seek?
You have something on your side,
And you wish you might have died,
So you tell me. And you tried
       &nbsp One night last week?

You tried hard? And even then
       &nbsp Found a time to pause?
When you try as hard again,
       &nbsp You'll have another cause.
When you find yourself at odds
With all dreamers of all gods,
You may smite yourself with rods—
       &nbsp But not the laws.

Though they seem to show a spite
       &nbsp Rather devilish,
They move on as with a might
       &nbspStronger than your wish.
Still, however strong they be,
They bide man's authority:
Xerxes, when he flogged the sea,
       &nbsp May've scared a fish.

It's a comfort, if you like,
       &nbsp To keep honor warm,
But as often as you strike
       &nbsp The laws, you do no harm.
To the laws, I mean. To you—
That's another point of view,
One you may as well indue
With some alarm.

Not the most heroic face
       &nbsp To present, I grant;
Nor will you insure disgrace
       &nbsp By fearing what you want.
Freedom has a world of sides,
And if reason once derides
Courage, then your courage hides
       &nbsp A deal of cant.

Learn a little to forget
       &nbsp Life was once a feast;
You aren't fit for dying yet,
       &nbsp So don't be a beast.
Few men with a mind will say,
Thinking twice, that they can pay
Half their debts of yesterday,
       &nbsp Or be released.

There's a debt now on your mind
       &nbsp More than any gold?
And there's nothing you can find
       &nbsp Out there in the cold?
Only—what's his name?—Remorse?
And Death riding on his horse?
Well, be glad there's nothing worse
       &nbsp Than you have told.

Leave Remorse to warm his hands
       &nbsp Outside in the rain.
As for Death, he understands,
       &nbsp And he will come again.
Therefore, till your wits are clear,
Flourish and be quiet—here.
But a devil at each ear
       &nbsp Will be a strain?

Past a doubt they will indeed,
       &nbsp More than you have earned.
I say that because you need
       &nbsp Ablution, being burned?
Well, if you must have it so,
Your last flight went rather low.
Better say you had to know
       &nbsp What you have learned.

And that's over. Here you are,
       &nbsp Battered by the past.
Time will have his little scar,
       &nbsp But the wound won't last.
Nor shall harrowing surprise
Find a world without its eyes
If a star fades when the skies
       &nbsp Are overcast.

God knows there are lives enough,
       &nbsp Crushed, and too far gone
Longer to make sermons of,
       &nbsp And those we leave alone.
Others, if they will, may rend
The worn patience of a friend
Who, though smiling, sees the end,
       &nbsp With nothing done.

But your fervor to be free
       &nbsp Fled the faith it scorned;
Death demands a decency
       &nbsp Of you, and you are warned.
But for all we give we get
Mostly blows? Don't be upset;
You, Bokardo, are not yet
       &nbsp Consumed or mourned.

There'll be falling into view
       &nbsp Much to rearrange;
And there'll be a time for you
       &nbsp To marvel at the change.
They that have the least to fear
Question hardest what is here;
When long-hidden skies are clear,
       &nbsp The stars look strange.