Monday, July 21, 2008

The Clock of Life a poem dedicated to my friend~

Rest well my friend ~
I shall miss you very much~

The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when 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, toil with a will --
Place no faith in 'Tomorrow' --
For the clock may then be still.

Robert H. Smith
©1932-1982

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