| TELL me not, in mournful numbers, |
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| Life is but an empty dream!— |
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| For the soul is dead that slumbers, |
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| And things are not what they seem. |
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| |
| Life is real! Life is earnest! |
5 |
| And the grave is not its goal; |
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| Dust thou art, to dust returnest, |
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| Was not spoken of the soul. |
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| |
| Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, |
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| Is our destined end or way; |
10 |
| But to act, that each to-morrow |
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| Find us farther than to-day. |
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| Art is long, and Time is fleeting, |
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| And our hearts, though stout and brave, |
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| Still, like muffled drums, are beating |
15 |
| Funeral marches to the grave. |
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| |
| In the world's broad field of battle, |
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| In the bivouac of Life, |
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| Be not like dumb, driven cattle! |
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| Be a hero in the strife! |
20 |
| |
| Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! |
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| Let the dead Past bury its dead! |
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| Act,—act in the living Present! |
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| Heart within, and God o'erhead! |
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| |
| Lives of great men all remind us |
25 |
| We can make our lives sublime, |
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| And, departing, leave behind us |
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| Footprints on the sands of time; |
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| Footprints, that perhaps another, |
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| Sailing o'er life's solemn main, |
30 |
| A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, |
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| Seeing, shall take heart again. |
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| |
| Let us, then, be up and doing, |
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| With a heart for any fate; |
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| Still achieving, still pursuing, |
35 |
| Learn to labor and to wait. |