Classic Poem

I said, This misery must end:
Shall I, that am a man and know
that sky and wind are yet my friend,
sit huddled under any blow?
so speaking left the dismal room
and stepped into the mother-night
all filled with sacred quickening gloom
where the few stars burned low and bright,
and darkling on my darkling hill
heard thro' the beaches' sullen boom
heroic note of living will
ring trumpet-clear against the fight;
so stood and heard, and raised my eyes
erect, that they might drink of space,
and took the night upon my face,
till time and trouble fell away
and all my soul sprang up to feel
as one among the stars that reel
in rhyme on their rejoicing way,
breaking the elder dark, nor stay
but speed beyond each trammelling gyre
till time and sorrow fall away
and night be withered up, and fire
consume the sickness of desire.