The lessons we forget teach us the best,
As learning them anew, we learn the more.
With pride distressed, a humble heart’s twice blessed
With grace regained, though cast away before.
The happy masses walk a wide, clear way
Straight-stepping at an automatic pace,
While hapless seekers to the fringes stray
And tripped by tempting roots, fall to disgrace.
A heart will often break of its own lapse
A mind may its own principles traduce.
We mend and purge–though bitterly, perhaps–
To claim unlikely wage for self-abuse.
      Our weakly frame prone often to offense,
      Our mending bears us ample recompense.