  T he little days come, one by one, And smile into our face; Each hath its dawn and set of sun, Each hath its little place. Then scorn them not, but use them well, Treat each one as a friend; Neglect them not! We cannot tell How soon our days may end. Heed not the years! Make every day With love and labour fair; The years, then, as they roll away, Will need no further care. E. D. |
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