Missolonghi, Jan. 22, 1824 <br /> <br />'Tis time this heart should be unmoved, <br />Since others it hath ceased to move: <br />Yet, though I cannot be beloved, <br />Still let me love! <br /> <br />My days are in the yellow leaf; <br />The flowers and fruits of love are gone; <br />The worm, the canker, and the grief, <br />Are mine alone! <br /> <br />The fire that on my bosom preys <br />Is lone as some volcanic isle; <br />No torch is kindled at its blaze— <br />A funeral pile! <br /> <br />The hope, the fear, the jealous care, <br />The exalted portion of the pain <br />And power of love, I cannot share, <br />But wear the chain. <br /> <br />But 'tis not thus—and 'tis not here— <br />Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now, <br />Where glory decks the hero's bier, <br />Or binds his brow. <br /> <br />The sword, the banner, and the field, <br />Glory and Greece, around me see! <br />The Spartan, borne upon his shield, <br />Was not more free. <br /> <br />Awake! (not Greece—she is awake!) <br />Awake, my spirit! Think through whom <br />Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake, <br />And then strike home! <br /> <br />Tread those reviving passions down, <br />Unworthy manhood!—unto thee <br />Indifferent should the smile or frown <br />Of beauty be. <br /> <br />If thou regret'st thy youth, why live? <br />The land of honourable death <br />Is here:—up to the field, and give <br />Away thy breath! <br /> <br />Seek out—less often sought than found— <br />A soldier's grave, for thee the best; <br />Then look around, and choose thy ground, <br />And take thy rest.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-this-day-i-complete-my-thirty-sixth-year/
