Below is a poem written Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He wrote it in his house on the banks of the river cambridge after he lost his wife. He was depressed, lost confidence and started believing that he can no more write poems. But on that day, he experienced this emotional upsurge as to what life is, how to go about it…. He wrote this poem, but never dared to publish it. It was in his books until his friend found out about it and published it to the world.. And today… It is the worlds First Most Read Poem.
Its my sincere opinion that we need not have to refer to anything in this world for moral support. Just keep this poem in mind. The words are so appropriate even today and I am sure every one of you shall find the importance and necessity of such words in our life. Here it goes…
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.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us further than to-day.
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.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er 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;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882).