Life Is A Smoke That Curls- Curls

Life Is A Smoke That Curls- Curls In A Flickering Skein, That Winds And Whisks And Whirls, A Figment Thin And Vain, Into The Vast Inane. One End For Hut And Hall.

And Lo, The Hospital, Gray, Quiet, Old, Where Life And Death Like Friendly Chafferers Meet.

So Be My Passing! My Task Accomplished And The Long Day Done, My Wages Taken, And In My Heart Some Late Lark Singing, Let Me Be Gathered In The Quiet West, The Sundown Splendid And Serene, Death.

Shakespeare And Rembrandt Have In Common The Faculty Of Quickening Speculation And Compelling The Minds Of Men To Combat And Discussion.

Madam Life's A Piece In Bloom Death Goes Dogging Everywhere: She's The Tenant Of The Room, He's The Ruffian On The Stair.