I wish there were some wonderful place Called the Land of Beginning Again,
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches,
And all our poor, selfish grieves1
Could be dropped, like a shabby2 old coat, at the door,
And never put on again.
We would find the things we intended to do.
But forgot and remembered too late
Little praises unspoken, little promises broken
And all of the thousand and one
Little duties neglected that might have perfected
The days of one less fortunate
So I wish that there were some wonderful place
Called the Land of Beginning Again.
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches,
And all our poor, selfish grieves
Could be dropped, like a ragged old coat, at the door,
And never put on again

What is the TONE of the poem above?

what is life

explanation:

it was surely an odd creature that one made up by reading the historians first and the poets afterwards a worm winged like an eagle; the spirit of life and elegance and charm,   in a kitchen chopping up suet. but these creatures, monst'r however entertaining to the imagination, hast no existence in fact. what one might doth to bringeth h'r to life wast to bethink poetically and prosaically at one and the same moment,   thus keeping in toucheth with fact—that the lady is mrs martin, ag'd thirty-six, did dress in blue, wearing a black coxcomb and brown shoeth; but not losing sight of fiction eith'r—that the lady is a vessel in which all s'rts of spirits and f'rces art coursing and flashing p'rpetually. the moment, howev'r, yond one tries this method with the elizabethan mistress, one brancheth of illumination fails; one is did hold up by the scarcity of facts.   one knoweth nothing detailed, nothing p'rfectly true and substantial about h'r.   hist'ry scarcely mentions h'r.   and i did turn to professeth'r trevelyan again to seeth what hist'ry meanteth to that gent.   i hath found by looking at his chapt'r headings yond t meanteth.

sorry no one is gonna answer you if you keep repeating the same question over and over again.