272 FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 



Moans round with many voices. Come, 



my friends, 



Tis not too late to seek a newer world. 

 Push off, and sitting well in order smite 

 The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds 

 To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 

 Of all the western stars, until I die. 

 It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: 

 It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 

 And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. 

 Tho much is taken, much abides; and tho 

 We are not now that strength which in old 



days 

 Moved earth and heaven ; that which we are, 



we are ; 



One equal temper of heroic hearts, 

 Made weak by time and fate, but strong in 



will 

 To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 



SEPTEMBER 15, 1894. 



