Some souls there are that needs must tasteOf wrong, ere choosing right;We should not call those years a wasteWhich led us to the light.
Our souls should be vessels receivingThe waters of love for relievingThe sorrows of men.
Oh! what are years? A ripe three score and tenHold often less of life, in its best sense,Than just a twelvemonth lived by other men,Whose high-strung souls are ardent and intense.