Let me live, O Mighty Master, such a life as a men shall know. Tasting triumph and disaster, joy and not too much woe.
Let me run the gamut over, let me fight and love and laugh, and when I’m beneath the clover let this be my epitaph:
Here lies one who took his chances in the busy world of men; battled luck and circumstances fought and fell and fought again;
Won sometimes, but did no crowing, lost sometimes, but did not wail, took his beating, but kept going, never let his courage fail.
He was fallible and human, therefore loved and understood both his fellow man and woman, whether good or not so good;
Kept his spirit undiminished, never lay down on a friend, played the game until it was finished, lived a sportsman to the end…