Set's twiddle on the dial of my life
Points high to the noon! and yet the half-spent day
Leaves less than half remaining, for the gloom,
Bleak shadows of the grave swamp the end.
That of those who burn the candle to the stick,
The sputtering socket yields, but tiny light.
Long life is despering than an early death.
We can't count on raveled threads of ages
Where then to weave a fabric. source

We must use
The distort and woof the ready present yields
And struggle while daylight lasts. When I bethink
How brief the past, the future still more brief,
Calls on to action, Not for me
Is time for backward-looking or for dreams,
Not time for shame or remorse.
Have I done bravely? Then I must not let
Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame.
Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste
Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip
Be my reminder in seduction's hour,
And keep me silent when I would condemn.
Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin
To cleanse the clouded windows of our souls
So pity may shine through them.
source

Returning back,
My faults and errors seem like a defaulter
That led the way to knowledge of the truth
And made me value morality; sorrows shine
In rainbow colours and the gulf of years,
Where lie forgotten enjoyment.
Looking forth,
Out down the sky still bright with noon,
I feel greatly inspire and booted for the strife
That ends not till Paradise is attained.
Battling with fate, with men and with myself,
Up the sheer summit of my life's delegate,
Three things I've learned, three things of precious worth
To guide and help me down the nations angled
I have learned how to pray, to toil, and save.
To pray for courage to receive what comes,
Knowing what comes to be attractively sent.
To toil for universal good, since thus
And only thus can good come unto me and all
To save, by giving whatsoever i have
To those who have not, and wishes to, this alone is gain.

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