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George Gordon Byron - On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year
Work rating: Medium

`Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
   Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved, 
      Still let me love!
   
My days are in the yellow leaf;
   The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
         Are mine alone!
 
The fire that on my bosom preys
    Is lone as some volcanic isle;             
No torch is kindled at its blaze--
         A funeral pile.
 
The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
    The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
         But wear the chain.
 
But `tis not thus--and `tis not here--
   Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now,
Where glory decks the hero`s bier,
         Or binds his brow.                   
 
The sword, the banner, and the field,
   Glory and Greece, around me see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,
     Was not more free.
 
Awake! (not Greece--she is awake!)
    Awake, my spirit! Think through whom
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,
          And then strike home!
 
Tread those reviving passions down,
    Unworthy manhood!--unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
         Of beauty be.
 
If thou regrett`st thy youth, why live?
    The land of honourable death
Is here: up to the field, and give
         Away thy breath!
 
Seek out--less often sought than found
   A soldier`s grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,
     And take thy rest.
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