As one who throws Earth's gold away in scorn,
Holding Tomorrow shall refill his purse,
So he who spurns his brain's light offspring, born
In prose or verse.
Behold the night is certain when our hand
Shall fail from labour and our eye from sight—
Thrice mad who has no treasure at command
Against that night.
Wherefore, while each new day brings some new thought
And Life's chain sparkles, golden link by link
Write quickly; good or evil, all is fraught
More deeply than you think.