Classic Poem

This, then, is the covenant you shall keep
Under your heart as men keep what they lose:
A memory of bugles after sleep,
A consecration and a glittering truce.
Even if you should suffer — and you will
Terribly — at least there cannot be
Ascent without the solitary Hill,
Peace without the passion of the Tree.

So you will walk alone, yet not alone;
Though beauty pierces, beauty can assuage;
The pillow or the ladder in each stone
Shall rest or lift you on that pilgrimage:
Till suddenly — twisted, bleeding, black with scars,
You shall go throbbing out across the stars!