Don't Take Your Troubles to Bed
By Edmond Vance Cooke
You may labor your fill, friend of mine, if you will;
You may worry a bit if you must;
You may treat your affairs as a series of cares,
You may live on a scrap and a crust;
But when the day's done, put it out of your head;
Don't take your troubles to bed. You may batter your way through the thick of the fray,
You may sweat, you may cry, you may grunt;
You may be a dunce if you must, but this rule
Should ever be kept at the front:
Don't fight with your pillow, but lay down your head,
And kick every worriment out of the bed. That friend or that foe (which he is, I don't know)
Whose name we have spoken as Death,
Hovers close to your side, while you run or you ride,
And he envies the warmth of your breath;
But he turns him away with a shake of his head,
When he finds that you don't take your troubles to bed. —Edmond Vance Cooke, in the Saturday Evening Post.