Saturday, 16 December 2017

Don't Take Your Troubles To Bed.


    You may labor your fill, friend of mine, if you will;
      You may worry a bit, if you must;
    You may treat your affairs as a series of cares,
      You may live on a scrap and a crust;
    But when the day's done, put it out of your head;
    Don't take your troubles to bed.

    You may batter your way through the thick of the fray,
      You may sweat, you may swear, you may grunt;
    You may be a jack-fool if you must, but this rule
      Should ever be kept at the front:--
    Don't fight with your pillow, but lay down your head
    And kick every worriment out of the bed.

    That friend or that foe (which he is, I don't know),
      Whose name we have spoken as Death,
    Hovers close to your side, while you run or you ride,
      And he envies the warmth of your breath;
    But he turns him away, with a shake of his head,
    When he finds that you don't take your troubles to bed.

Author Unknown