The clock of life is wound but once, And no man has power To tell just when the hands will stop At late or early hour. To lose one’s wealth is sad indeed. Too lose one’s health is more. To lose one’s soul is such a loss That no man can restore. Today, only is our own. So live, love and toil with a will Place no faith in tomorrow, For the clock may soon be still.
By Robert H. Smith
This is from http://www.poetry-inspirational.org
Much Love and Many Blessings