'Tis time the 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 regrett'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-2/
