A Psalm Of Life

This is my first poem in a series of 5 of my most favorite poems. It is on these peoms that my life is more or less based.

I hav had the priviledge to experience quite a few things tht hav been mentioned in this poem. Tht is y I hav been trying to make this poem the basis of my life n am sure tht someday I shall succeed.

And as the last stanza says I shall n am waiting 4 tht day.

I hav comeback (hopeless, sad n buried) to this poem numerous times and each time it has helped me fightback.

This Poem is by H. W. Longfellow.

The Psalm Of Life

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 returnst,'

was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each tomorrow

Finds us farther then 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 head !

Act, act in the living present !

Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of greatmen 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 lifes solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again .

Let us than be made up and doing,

with a heart for any fate;

still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait.