A Psalm of Life
—Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow
What the heart
of the young
man said to the psalmist
- 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 art,
to dust returnest,
- Was not spoken
of the soul.
- Not enjoyment,
and not sorrow,
- Is our destined
end or way;
- But to act, that
each to-morrow
- Find us farther
than to-day.
- 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 sands of time;
- Footprints, that
perhaps another,
- Sailing o'er
life's solemn 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.
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