Classic Poem

The sayers of words have said the last word:
They have shut the doors, they have closed the shutters, they have put out the lights:
The sayers of words have said: Now there shall be no more speech, now the world may sleep.

I come in the dead of its night and challenge the world to meet a new day:
I say I the waker have come to start where the sleepers left off:
I make a great noise, I arouse the world to the turmoil of the busy streets,
I bring the world fresh sorrow and fresh joy—it must drink of both to the full:
I will not let the last word pass forever and forever,
I will meet the last word with a first word forever and forever:
Up, dear world, there is more for you to do!

Yes, dear world, there is more for you to do:
Let the sayers of words sleep, let the last word rest in its coffin—we will do without them.
Have all the trees been planted in the ground? I will plant more trees.
Has all the love of the world been told about? I will tell about more love
I do not quarrel with those who have stopped, I only keep on:
I see that I can do over again all that has been done and more too,
I see that I am not barren—that I may be as good a beginning as any,
I see that it would be ridiculous if Socrates and Jesus came for something and I came for nothing,
I see that the whole purpose of the world would be defeated if the last word of the dead sayers of words was of more importance than the first word of a living sayer of words:
Therefore I go about my business with great serenity of spirit,
In the midst of the jeers of the crowd and the contempt of authorities go about calm and convinced of myself,
In the face of currents that set the other way stick to my course sure of the successful issue,
In the teeth of advice keep sweetly to the path of my own counsel,
When my friends are afraid of me and my parents tell me they are sorry they gave me birth and I am alone, oh so much alone, on the earth, go about in great comfort of conviction.
Shall I give up because the dead sayers of words have given up?
Now is the time for me to be steadfast in the loyalties of the living sayer of words.

I hear the lesson that is taught but the lesson does not teach me,
I do not take my lesson from the book that is handed me by the teacher:
They all tell me to look and listen back, so I may see life and hear life in the visions of the dead sayers of words.
The guide loses his place among the graves of the dead:
I am left alone with the problem—left alone to learn the lesson in the quick of the voyage
I do not look back—I look around, the passion of my daily life possesses me:
I do not listen back—I hear words spoken by living lips as words have never been spoken by men before:
I call my companions, I am heard, we meet and embrace.

The world sleeps deep, the world sleeps late:
The sayers of words who have said the last word—they are closed forever in their own house by their own hands:
I have gone to meet the dawn, I am crying the cry of the first word:
The world will hear me in time and not complain:
The sleepers may growl but the wakers will welcome me gladly.
Has all been said to the day that is gone?
All has been said: yes. Shall I then be silent forever?
No: I will be ready to say it all over again to the day that is about to break:
All the justice and love, all the ideals and dreams, over again:
Say it with the vehemence and faith of the first word: say it again and again until the noonday hears and acknowledges me.

The sayers of words have said the last word:
They have shut the doors, they have closed the shutters, they have put out the lights:
The sayers of words have said: Now there shall be no more speech, now the world may sleep.
I come in the dead of its night and challenge the world to meet a new day.