A Long Life or a Short One.
ONE man will make the shortest life
The longest seem in deeds,
That blossom from the very dust
For human wants and needs—
The harvest of the husbandman
That soweth goodly seeds. Another drags his span of life
To full four score and ten;
Yet when he dies the busy world
Scarce knows where he has been—
No progress marks his leaden steps
Within the haunts of men. And thus it matters not so much
How quick we journey through
The fruitful vineyard of the world,
My friend, as what we do!
How soon or late we reach the goal
That all men have in view. Then let us labor while we may,
With all our given might,
Who have the sun but half the time
And half the time the night,
To fill the precious minutes up
With deeds that court the light. We will not waste the shreds of time,
However small they seem,
Nor loiter in the great highway
Of mortal life to dream—
Mere clogs beneath the wheels of thrift
In this our age of steam. —Sel.