**Life is dross, but Love is gold*
So, throughout the numbered days.
Mine to keep and thine to hold.
Be it as the Master says.
Clean-intentioned ; each to each
Shall a Staff of Travel be,
Down the Roadway to the Beach
Of the tideless, timeless Sea,
Down the Roadway of the years
Till our Web of Life is spun.
Ours the laughter and the tears;
Ours the cream of cloud and sun.
Some there be who place and gain
Reckon over and above;
Some there be who joy and pain
Weigh in equal scales — of Love:
Those shall be as they were not.
At the Road-end by the Shore;
These, who lost and who forgot
Shall have triumphed evermore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem