Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
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Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
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Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within and God o'erhead.

Being all fashioned of the self-same dust,
Let us be merciful as well as just.

Being all fashioned of the self-same dust,
Let us be merciful as well as just.

To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.

To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.

Men as a whole judge more with their eyes than with their hands.

Men as a whole judge more with their eyes than with their hands.