I was a lawyer like Harmon Whitney <br />Or Kinsey Keene or Garrison Standard, <br />For I tried the rights of property, <br />Although by lamp-light, for thirty years, <br />In that poker room in the opera house. <br />And I say to you that Life's a gambler <br />Head and shoulders above us all. <br />No mayor alive can close the house. <br />And if you lose, you can squeal as you will; <br />You'll not get back your money. <br />He makes the percentage hard to conquer; <br />He stacks the cards to catch your weakness <br />And not to meet your strength. <br />And he gives you seventy years to play: <br />For if you cannot win in seventy <br />You cannot win at all. <br />So, if you lose, get out of the room -- <br />Get out of the room when your time is up. <br />It's mean to sit and fumble the cards, <br />And curse your losses, leaden-eyed, <br />Whining to try and try.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tom-beatty/
