While The Billy BoilsSearchLife is dross, but love is gold;So, throughout the numbered Days,Mine to keep and thine to hold —Be it as the Master says!
Clean intentioned; each to eachShall a staff of Travel be,Down the Roadway to the BeachOf the Tideless, Timeless Sea.
Down the Roadway of the YearsTill our Web of Life is spun,Ours, the Laughter and the Tears,Ours, the cream of Cloud and Sun.
Some there be, who Place and Gain,Reckon over and above;Some there be, who Joy and Pain,Weigh in equal scales of love.
Those shall be as they were notAt the Road’s-end, by the Shore;These who lost, and who forgot.Shall have triumphed evermore.