HE liveth long who liveth well;

All else is life but flung away;

He liveth longest who can tell

Of true things truly done each day.

Then fill each hour with what will last;

Buy up the moments as they go.

The life above, when this is past,

Is the ripe fruit of life below.

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure;

Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright;

Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor,

And find a harvest-home of light.