Dead Yesterdays And Unborn Tomorrows,

The Value Of Three Things Is Justly Appreciated By All Classes Of Men: Youth, By The Old; Health, By The Diseased; And Wealth, By The Needy.

Dust Into Dust, And Under Dust To Lie, Sans Wine, Sans Song, Sans Singer, And-sans End!

Alas, That Spring Should Vanish With The Rose! That Youths Sweet-scented Manuscript Should Close!

The Moving Finger Writes; And Having Writ, Moves On.

So I Be Written In The Book Of Love. I Do Not Care About That Book Above. Erase My Name, Or Write It As You Will. So I Be Written In The Book Of Love.