Life Is A Long Headache In A

Life Is A Long Headache In A Noisy Street.

Man Cannot Call The Brimming Instant Back; Time's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Days; If Man Must Make An Instant Gold, Or Black, Let Him, He May; But Time Must Go His Ways. Life May Be Duller For An Instant's Blaze. Life's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Years, Instants Are Only Cause Of All These Tears.

It May Be That We Cease; We Cannot Tell. Even If We Cease, Life Is A Miracle.

I Must Down To The Seas Again, To The Vagrant Gypsy Life, To The Gull's Way And The Whale's Way Where The Wind's Like A Whetted Knife And All I Ask Is A Merry Yarn From A Laughing Fellow Rover, And Quiet Sleep And A Sweet Dream When The Long Trick's Over.

To Most Of Us The Future Seems Unsure. But Then It Always Has Been; And We Who Have Seen Great Changes Must Have Great Hopes.