Life's Clock

The clock of life is wound but once,

And no man has the power

To tell just where 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

As no man can restore.

The present only is our own,

Live, Love, toil with a will --

Place no faith in 'tomorrow' --

For the clock may then be still.