I

Walk up! walk up! This way to see the world! Scant time allowed, must make the best of it: Seventy years or so: your hair’ll be curled Before that, though, with two or three sights fit To set your eyes wide open--if you’ve wit, That is to say, to win in the great strife For bare existence ’gainst each brother chit-- To keep one eye upon the slide of life, As ’twere an instant, ere death hood you with his coif.