Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies.And be it gash or gold it will not comeAgain in this identical disguise.

Say to them,say to the down-keepers,the sun-slappers,the self-soilers,the harmony-hushers,"Even if you are not ready for dayit cannot always be night."You will be right.For that is the hard home-run.Live not for battles won.Live not for the-end-of-the-song.Live in the along.

We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,Grayed in, and gray.

Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come Again in this identical guise.

Life must be aromatic. There must be scent, somehow there must be some.

This is the urgency: Live! and have your blooming in the noise of the whirlwind.