The Clock of Life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell when just the hands will stop,
At late or early hour.
To lose one's wealth is sad indeed,
To lose one's health is more,
To lose one's soul is such a loss
That no man can restore.
The present only is our own,
So live, Love and toil to live.
Place no faith in"Tomorrow".
Four the Clock may then be still......
