'TIS weary treading every day The same dull, dreary, uphill way, While the desired and the divine So fair and far above us shine -- As unattainable as dear To us who grope and stumble here. 'Tis hard to hold our flag on high, And never faint, until we die -- To spread our banner on a wind Scented with garlands left behind: To give up all life's joy, that we May humble banner-bearers be. 'Tis hard to sing, in faith, of light Through endless seeming hours of night -- To tune the harp, the voice upraise For Freedom's sake, for Honour's praise -- To sing of good that is, not seems -- To sing of duties, not of dreams. 'Tis hard to fix one's sleepy eyes On faint, faint streaks of new sunrise, When all one's being yearns to weep Its tiredness out, and turn to sleep: Sleep and forget, and cease to care If sunrise be, if darkness were. 'Tis weary fighting all one's life In one long, bitter, desperate strife, The hydra-headed, rampant wrong, When one is fain of dance and song -- To smell the rose, and hear the fair Soft wings of Pleasure in the air. Yet would we choose the weary way, The fighting, not the feasting day -- To wear the armour, not the flowers, To sing of Truth while voice is ours; Because good fight's worst wounds are far More dear than any pleasures are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUSIN NANCY by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT EXCELSIOR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW RUNNING THE BATTERIES by HERMAN MELVILLE THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 68 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE SISTERS by JOHN BANISTER TABB GRANDMOTHER'S TEACHING by ALFRED AUSTIN THE FIRST AIR-RAID WARNING by EVELYN D. BANGAY |