Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solenm main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Photo by Alistair.
8 comments:
Hari Om
This is wonderful, Alistair - hhmmm, could be Longfellow had read the Bhagavad Gita, many vedantic sentiments contained in here. Gorgeous.
Thank you, Alistair, for reminding me to make the best of my day!
Sound advice.
beautiful photo!
Thanks folks. I really liked this one when I read it and it's always struck a chord for me.
The tree is one facing the house from the hill opposite. There are several photos of it on the blog in various stages of growth etc.
I wondered who it was by as I read it. Longfellow always has something 'soldiering on' about his poems. A good reminder to keep going and keep faith with those who have done the same heroically. Every age is tough in its own way.
How true Rebecca, how true...
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