Aeolos Mercer

F
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
L
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Y
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
S
That ever with a frolic welcome took
A
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
F
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
E
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Y
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
A
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
L
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
L
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,

'T is 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 tho'

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.