Classic Poem

Move on with a will, nor dream thou back
Though a light flashed out on the dead year's track;
Though the heart lies cold as a thing in its shroud —
There are hearts as stunned in the shifting crowd.
We move with the face toward a coming span;
We look not back where the deep seas ran!
There are lights to be struck through a darkened land.
With an onward tread and a strong right hand,
We dream again — aye, an onward dream;
We will burnish the days till they burn and gleam;
We will look not back where our light flashed out —
There are shuddering hearts we will dream about;
There are lights to be struck where hearts stand by some shroud;
We will strike if but one 'midst the shifting crowd.

Move on with a will, nor dream thou back
Though a light flashed out on the dead year's track;
Though the heart lies cold as a thing in its shroud —
There are hearts as stunned in the shifting crowd.
We move with the face toward a coming span;
We look not back where the deep seas ran!
There are lights to be struck through a darkened land.
With an onward tread and a strong right hand,
We dream again — aye, an onward dream;
We will burnish the days till they burn and gleam;
We will look not back where our light flashed out —
There are shuddering hearts we will dream about;
There are lights to be struck where hearts stand by some shroud;
We will strike if but one 'midst the shifting crowd.