“I have no time for those things now,” we say;“But in the future just a little way,No longer by this ceaseless toil oppressed,I shall have leisure then for thought and rest.When I the debts upon my land have paid,Or on foundations firm my business laid,I shall take time for discourse long and sweetWith those beloved who round my hearthstone meet;I shall take time on mornings still and coolTo seek the freshness dim of wood and pool,Where, calmed and hallowed by great Nature’s peace,My life from its hot cares shall find release;I shall take time to think on destiny,Of what I was and am and yet shall be,Till in the hush my soul may nearer proveTo that great Soul in whom we live and move.All this I shall do sometime but not now—The press of business cares will not allow.”And thus our life glides on year after year;The promised leisure never comes more near.Perhaps the aim on which we placed our mindIs high, and its attainment slow to find;Or if we reach the mark that we have set,We still would seek another, farther yet.Thus all our youth, our strength, our time go pastTill death upon the threshold stands at last,And back unto our Maker we must giveThe life we spent preparing well to live. — "Preparation" by Effie Waller Smith, from the collection Rosemary and Pansies (1909) February 16, 2014