Ah , make the most of what we yet may spend，
Before we too into the Dust Descend；
Dust into Dust , and under Dust， to lie， Sans Wine , sans Song , sans Singer and - - sans End
时恐秋霜零草莽,
韶华一旦随花葬;
微尘身世化微尘,
无酒无歌无梦想。
Strange , is it not ? that of the myriads who Before us pass ' d the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us the Roads，
Which to discover we must travel too.
道失冥关谁借问,
了无归客说崎岖;
漫漫别路深如许,
寂寞行人只自知。