At Any Hour

It is a hard tale for those who never having risked, have never erred. For the unstrayed sons, so aware -- so aware as daily they abide in a prosperous house Punctiliously performing their appointed tasks -- of what they deserve: how much they are worth Down to the final, calculated jot of wage and award, credit and praise. O none too easy!m To accept as fair the music, the dancing, and the feast all spread Because a boy who has ruinously spent himself now, in dishonor, stumbles home. But it's all here. The one who says "Father, I have sinned -- and am worthy no more -- " And the one who's forgotten how all the time he too has been held, as joint heir In the same great love that only awaits full yield to it, by each dear son: Him fallen among swine. And him who thinks by non-transgression to secure, as his, The robe, the ring, and an unshare d song.

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