In life’s great game, though death shall claim the prize,
And waits unmoved beyond our fleeting day,
We still possess, beneath uncertain skies,
The sovereign choice of how we wish to play.
We cannot halt the passing of the years,
Nor bargain with the dark that ends the song,
But we may meet the world through love or fears,
And choose what kind of heart will carry on.
Some play for gold, for glory, or for fame,
Some play for truth, for kindness, or for light;
Though all must lose, no soul need play the same,
For grace can turn a brief defeat to right.
So let death win the end it always may,
The deeper art is how we choose to play.