But to love and live, and to live and love.
So the ship flew on to the sinless shore,
Where a younger world from the deep sea starts;
Where sorrow cannot bewilder us more,
Or fear lay her cold hand over our hearts.
It is just as lovely as what we plann'd,
With its exquisite air of bright repose;
And 'tis Harry himself must till the land,
And 'tis I must sweep and cook, I suppose!
Is it playing at life, this life of ours?