Come the clearest of messages yet:
And the nose of my dinghy is set
For the time the gods give me a win!
And I waft you a line,
Dear old mother of mine!
While the hands of Luck’s jenny-wheel spin.
[116]
]But, though Fortune be good or be ill!
Though the guerdon be ashes or gold!
When the crushing has gone to the mill
And the tale of life’s effort is told,