"I would not live alway,"
Why should I wish to stay,
Now, when grown old and grey,
Enduring slow decay?
When power to do has fled,
'Twere better to be dead -
The tree that's ceased to bear,
Has no right to be there.
Who cares to keep a bird
Whose note is never heard?
Yet many things abound,
Encumbering the ground;
Useless, unsightly wrecks,
That only serve to vex
The sight of those who boast
All that those wrecks have lost.
If God gave me this life, -
Now, when worn out with strife,
May I not give it back
And move from out the track?
This world is not for drones!
The right to live each owns;
But he to earn that right
Must work with all his might.
When power to do has fled,
'Twere better to be dead.
The dog has had its day; -
"I would not live alway."