Etta Johnson

Life's clock The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power To tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour. To lose one's wealth is sad indeed, to lose one's health is more, To lose one's soul is such a loss as no man can restore. The present only is our own, live, love, toil with a will; Place no faith in tomorrow for the clock may then be still.