The Sea Nymphs
The Psalm Of Life
Tell me not in mournful numbers"Life is but an empty dream"For the soul is dead that slumbersThings are not what they seemLife is real, life is earnestAnd the grave is not its goal"Dust thou art, to dust returnest"Wasn't spoken of the soulNot enjoyment and not sorrowIs our destined end or wayBut to act, that each tomorrowFind us further than todayIn the world's broad field of battleIn the bivouac of lifeBe not like dumb, driven cattleBe a hero in the strifeArt is long and time is fleetingAnd our hearts, though stout and braveStill, like muffled drums, are beatingFuneral marches to the graveLives of great men all remind usSongtexteWe can make our lives sublime,And, departing, leave behind usFootprints on the sands of--Footprints, that perhaps another,Sailing o'er life's solemn main,A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,Seeing, shall take heart--Let us, then, be up and doingWith a heart for any fateStill achieving, still pursuingLearn to labor and to wait
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