If through the years we're not to do Much finer deeds than we have done; If we must merely wander through Time's garden, idling in the sun; If there is nothing big ahead, Why do we fear to join the dead? Unless to-morrow means that we Shall do some needed service here; That tasks are waiting you and me That will be lost, save we appear; Then why this dreadful thought of sorrow That we may never see to-morrow? If all our finest deeds are done, And all our splendor's in the past; If there's no battle to be won, What matter if to-day's our last? Is life so sweet that we would live Though nothing back to life we give? It is not greatness to have clung To life through eighty fruitless years; The man who dies in action, young, Deserves our praises and our cheers, Who ventures all for one great deed And gives his life to serve life's need. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO W.P.: 4 by GEORGE SANTAYANA SMILE AND NEVER HEED ME by CHARLES SWAIN MOONLIGHT IN SUMMER by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD A DAY REMORSEFUL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN MORNING SUMMONS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON SONG: GOOD COUNSEL TO A YOUNG MAID by THOMAS CAREW TO THE REV. JAMES HERVEY, ON HIS MEDITATIONS by NATHANIEL COTTON |