O the blessedness of life ! It's lucky, no doubt, man gets a taste for living by the times he burns out...

And rides right into the valley of Death in 
Sunday black as the lights of heaven wink 
on his coffin plaque.

The world and life are both worthwhile things,
and keeping life in one's bones is a duty that can
stand. Comparison with any job when reckoned 
money for money, although a man must in the end go under the ground.

Infancy's days are unadulterated fun,
And everyone feels blessed as h dandles
the blessed one.
Youth's a time for rollicking; next is 
middle-age,
A period of sobriety and ease; with old age.

Consolation comes - the icing on the cake.
who was Job to say that man was born for
heartache ?
But hold a minute. what kind of rigmarole
is this ?
Black and white demand a better-balanced 
antithesis.

I've seen children scream and young people
complain.
Glimpsed middle-age faces white with visions
of gain.
I've seen the old shrivelling, with cracks in their
skin.
Yes, yes, I've seen more than enough sickness 
and suffering.
Man was born to affliction.
Can that truth be gainsaid ?
Job hit both rock bottom and the nail on the
head.

Man of susses ?
Or ?