Listen! The end draws nearer, <br />Nearer the morning—or night— <br />And I see with a vision clearer <br />That the beginning was right! <br />These shall be words to remember <br />When all has been done and said, <br />And my fame is a dying ember <br />In the days when I am dead. <br />Listen! We wrote in sorrow, <br />And we wrote by candle light; <br />We took no heed of the morrow, <br />And I think that we were right— <br />(To-morrow, but not the day after, <br />And I think that we were right). <br /> <br />We wrote of a world that was human <br />And we wrote of blood that was red, <br />For a child, or a man, or a woman— <br />Remember when we are dead. <br /> <br />Listen! We wrote not for money, <br />And listen! We wrote not for fame— <br />We wrote for the milk and the honey <br />Of Kindness, and not for a name. <br /> <br />We paused not, nor faltered for any, <br />Though many fell back where we led; <br />We wrote of the few for the many— <br />Remember when we are dead. <br /> <br />We suffered as few men suffer, <br />Yet laughed as few men laugh; <br />We grin as the road grows rougher, <br />And a bitterer cup we quaff. <br /> <br />We lived for Right and for Laughter, <br />And we fought for a Nation ahead— <br />Remember it, friends, hereafter, <br />In the years when I am dead— <br />For to-morrow and not the day after, <br />For ourselves, and a Nation ahead.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-day-s-when-we-are-dead/
