I STARTED on a lonely road. <br />A few companions with me went. <br />Some fell behind, some forward strode, <br />But all on one high purpose bent: <br />To live for Nature, finding truth <br />In beauty, and the shrines of art; <br />To consecrate our joyous youth <br />To aims outside the common mart. <br />The way was steep, though pleasure crowned <br />Our toil with every step we took. <br />The morning air was spiced around <br />From many a pine and cedar nook. <br />I turned aside and lingered long <br />To pluck a rose, to hear a bird, <br />To muse, while listening to the song <br />Of brooks through leafy coverts heard; <br />To live in thoughts that brought no fame <br />Or guerdon from the thoughtless crowd; <br />To toll for ends that could not claim <br />The world's applauses coarse and loud; <br />Then onward pressed. But far before <br />I saw my comrades on the heights. <br />They no divided homage bore <br />To Beauty's myriad sounds and sights. <br />In blithe self-confidence they wrought. <br />Some strove for fame and fame's reward. <br />They pleased the public's facile thought; <br />Then paused and stretched them on the sward. <br />And still though oft I bind my sheaf <br />In fields my comrades have not known; <br />Though Art is long and life is brief, <br />And youth has now forever flown, <br />I would not lose the raptures sweet, <br />Nor scorn the toil of earlier years; <br />Still would I climb with eager feet, <br />Though towering height on height appears — <br />And up the mountain road I see <br />A younger throng with voices loud, <br />Who side by side press on with me, <br />Till I am lost amid the crowd.<br /><br />Christopher Pearse Cranch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ars-longa-vita-brevis/
