What now, should we like prodigals return;
Would we be then restored to our design?
Were we as fools to quit when we could earn;
To put our skills and hopes in foreign time?
A chance to venture forth, to disobey;
Releasing our impressions from the vice.
To flee the stubborn ways of yesterday;
Should fear the haunted airs of dead advice?
Enough of this, give leave to what we say,
Be we in finer wines or meagre purse.
If this our one mistake, forever pay,
Then let us be our killer or our nurse.
Weighed even from the past what we have done;
Let laugh or cry each day what we’ve become.