Classic Poem

Stain not thy sword in melancholy thought,
This world hath other practice for thine arms.
Give not thine ear to Sloth, howe'er she charms;
Her house of ease is only for the distraught.
Close down the vizor. Be not fondly taught
By masters in the school of false alarms:
And let thy spirit suffer any harms
Save doubt that all for nothing thou hast fought.

Fierce rage opposing hordes? Then let them rage.
As locusts do they swarm upon the plain?
O valiant soul! Give them thy proudest gage,
Yea, this fling in the face of their disdain:
Though ye be many as the clouds of night,
One ray of sun shall overthrow your might.