I went to church today, and after the Mass I was meditating and stumble on a poem I read sometime past, it was uplifting and something I will like you to ponder upon. The poem was written by Henry Wadsworth and its a good poem anytime anyday.
A PSALM OF LIFE.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is Real! Life is Earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.Trust no future, however pleasant!
Let the dead Past Bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God O'erhead!Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.There is no flock, however
watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoever defended,
But has one vacant chair!
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