I won't be long in this vale of tears; my works may run for a few more
years, but even that is a risky bet, and the sports are hedging already
yet. At morning a gent feels gay and nice; and evening finds him upon
the ice, with his folded hands and his long white gown, and his toes
turned up and his plans turned down. So, viewing this sad uncertainty,
and hearing the wash of the Dead Man's sea, I want to chortle the best
I can, and try to cheer up my fellow man; to make a fellow forget his
care, and make him laugh when he wants to swear, is as much as a poet
can hope to do, whose lyre is twisted and broke in two.