Sunday, October 3, 2010

Clock of Life n2/07

               
                  The clock of life is wound but once,         
                  And no man has the power,                    
                  To tell just when the hands will stop               
                  At a late or early hour.                   
                                                                 
                 To lose ones wealth, is sad indeed.          
                 To lose ones health is more.                    
                 To lose ones soul is such a loss,                       
                 That no man can restore.                        
                                                                                               
                 The present only is our own,                   
                 Live, love, toil with a will                        
                 Place no faith in tomorrow,                     
                 For the clock may then be still
                                                Anonymous

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