AceOfSpades Posted January 9 Share Posted January 9 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 tomorrow find us further 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 biviouc of life, be not like dumb, driven cattle, be a hero in the strife. Trust no future, howe're pleasnt, act, -act in the living present, Heart within and God overhead. 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, seeing, shall take heart again. Let us then be up and doing, with a heart for any fate, still acheiving, still pursuing, Learn to labour, and to wait. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, A Psalm of Life Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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