Pieces one cannot hold are fragments one cannot mould To memories once lost and sold ‘Till harmonies shattered, thrice creased-fold

Thus broken glass cannot be mended Like eggs in Nursery Rhymes, never are rendered Or if one’s try doth administered It but pricks the finger and the flow of blood; Wasted

Therefore is not Split Milk Like the water cast Cans’t not be retrieved Like the frost of some winter’s past A mistake made is a mistake done It is not resurrected But like a rift in one fabric found Can be prevented in the other ground

How then do we measure our faults and follies? How then do we make recompense? The wiser is to raise no such fancies We shall do away with fear and suspense And walk away with the ample lesson, Not the sampled sanction!