Thursday, January 08, 2009

For all who weary in battle




An English teacher shared these lines with the class on the first day of class as some of his favorite poetry. I loved it, and so I thought I'd share it here to honor and encourage anyone who's ever fought a battle, who's been hurt or is hurting lately, anyone who's been discouraged or exhausted in any endeavor.

I'm having trouble finding the eloquence to express what I want this to communicate, so I think I'll stop trying and let it speak for itself.

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs:
the deep
Moans round with many voices.
Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

--from "Ulysses" by Alfred Lord Tennyson


(painting above: "Snow Storm" by Joseph Mallord William Turner)

1 comment:

France is said...

I've been playing Tennyson in my mind all week.
The score is LOVE: zero.
also, the identifying tag in this comment is PLOGR
which should be some sort of cool blogger nickname.

my room looks like a giant clothes eating monster barfed everywhere.

I want to thank you again for the donuts.
That made my week.
less weak
er.

<3 and peas and sugar please,
ja