***
Life is real, life is earnest,
And the grave is not its goal,
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul,

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way,
But to act, that each tomorrow,
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating,
Funeral marches to the grave.

A Psalm Of Life 
***