As one who throws
Earth’s gold away in scorn

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.