White in the moon the long road lies.

You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever.

Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.

A moment's thought would have shown him. But a moment is a long time, and thought is a painful process.

The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.

Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go.