Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die. <br />Outstretch’d in the sun’s warmth upon the shore, <br />Thou say’st: ‘Man’s measured path is all gone o’er: <br />Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh, <br />Man clomb until he touch’d the truth; and I, <br />Even I, am he whom it was destined for.’ <br />How should this be? Art thou then so much more <br />Than they who sow’d, that thou shouldst reap thereby? <br /> <br />Nay, come up hither. From this wave-wash’d mound <br />Unto the furthest flood-brim look with me; <br />Then reach on with thy thought till it be drown’d. <br />Miles and miles distant though the last line be, <br />And though thy soul sail leagues and leagues beyond,— <br />Still, leagues beyond those leagues, there is more sea.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-choice-4/
