Classic Poem

Higher!
 This shall my watchword be,
And this one thought my soul inspire,
 For I am keen and free.

Higher!
 Yea, even in defeat
Hold I my lofty purpose higher
 And deem it still more sweet.

Higher!
 Though Victory should smile
And, bringing me my one desire,
 Should say: “Rest thee awhile.”

Higher!
 This be my shibboleth
Of those few friends whom I require
 And love in life and death.

Higher!
 Up to that frigid height
Where clinging needs and lusts expire
 And thought flies strong and light.

Higher!
 God, save me from old age,
From listlessness and eyes that tire
 Of Thine illumined page!

Higher!
 Oh, let this spark divine
Leap glittering to the central fire,
 The all-pervading shine.