<b>Wisdom</b> When I have ceased to break my wings Against the faultiness of things, And learned that compromises wait Behind each hardly opened gat… - Sara Teasdale

Child, child, love while you can
The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man;
Never fear though it break your heart — Out of the wound new joy will start;
Only love proudly and gladly and well,
Though love be heaven or love be hell.

I would not have a god come in
To shield me suddenly from sin,
And set my house of life to rights;
Nor angels with bright burning wings
Ordering my earthly thoughts and things;
Rather my own frail guttering lights
Wind blown and nearly beaten out;
Rather the terror of the nights
And long, sick groping after doubt;
Rather be lost than let my soul
Slip vaguely from my own control — Of my own spirit let me be
In sole though feeble mastery.

The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
But not to me.

My peace is hidden in his breast
Where I shall never be,
Loves come to-night to all the rest,
But not to me.