Outlook

N. Ustinov

Outlook

Not to be conquered by these headlong days,
But to stand free: to keep the mind at brood
On life's deep meaning, nature's altitude
Of loveliness, and time's mysterious ways;
At every thought and deed to clear the haze
Out of our eyes, considering only this,
What man, what life, what love, what beauty is,
This is to live, and win the final praise.
Though strife, ill fortune, and harsh human need
Beat down the soul, at moments blind and dumb
With agony; yet, patience—there shall come
Many great voices from life's outer sea,
Hours of strange triumph, and, when few men heed,
Murmurs and glimpses of eternity.

Archibald Lampman


I read that and almost have nothing to say, it seems so fully expressed. What I can say is that I love these kind of poems, these stand-still-take-a-breath-and-remember words. A poem like this would be worth memorizing, something to have ready for those times when I get bogged in my own miry clay. Words that help me stand up straight and notice the hopeful signs and the reasons to keep moving toward them.