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