Wake: the silver dusk returning <br />Up the beach of darkness brims, <br />And the ship of sunrise burning <br />Strands upon the eastern rims. <br /> <br />Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters, <br />Trampled to the floor it spanned, <br />And the tent of night in tatters <br />Straws the sky-pavilioned land. <br /> <br />Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying: <br />Hear the drums of morning play; <br />Hark, the empty highways crying <br />"Who'll beyond the hills away?" <br /> <br />Towns and countries woo together, <br />Forelands beacon, belfries call; <br />Never lad that trod on leather <br />Lived to feast his heart with all. <br /> <br />Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber <br />Sunlit pallets never thrive; <br />Morns abed and daylight slumber <br />Were not meant for man alive. <br /> <br />Clay lies still, but blood's a rover; <br />Breath's a ware that will not keep. <br />Up, lad: when the journey's over <br />There'll be time enough to sleep.<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reveille-2/
