Classic Poem

I

   A WAKE ! Awake!
  All living things that be,
   In nest or fold!—
  All lives that solace take,
And dreamful ease, in tent, or wind-blown tree,
Or curtained couch, your wanderings forsake
In the dim realms of unreality!
   Awake, for shame
  Of languor's soft delight!
Lo, once again earth's heaving disk is rolled
   In rosy flame,
  And through the camps of night,
The flying Moon, beneath her splintered targe,
Sore-stricken by the feathered shafts of Dawn,
And harried by her hounds, like Actaeon, Kneels,
   Stoops, and wheels
  Adown the western marge!

II

   Awake to toil!
  In wood, and rock-ribbed hill,
   And loamy mead,
  What golden largess lies!
Awake to strife, and far-resounding deed,
In love's sweet quest, or honor's high emprise,
With trumpets blown, and clash of steed with steed!
   Awake to care,
  And triumph's frequent foil!
But still pursue! O hand with strength to take—
O dauntless heart, to suffer, and to dare—
   O swerveless will,
  To bend, or else to break—
To life, to love, to conquest, and to spoil
   Awake! Awake!