Its youthful days Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays. Life is a privilege. The mysteries of the human mind unclose.
Life is a privilege.
Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there. Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind, And in the serious hours of life we find Depths in the soul of men which lend new worth And majesty to this brief span of earth. Life is a privilege. Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.