It catches up with you, in the end,
Although its easy to pretend
That the late nights
And fights
With an unknown friend
Under the sheet
Will not defeat
Roistering youth.

The truth
Oft creeps
Up on a man as he sleeps.
Or when, on seeing nature’s beauty he weeps
Over something irredeemably lost,
And counts the cost for a while,
Then with a weary smile
Returns to the merry-go-round
Which will spin him round, and round and round