Vitai Lampada ("They Pass On The Torch of Life") by Sir Henry Newbolt (1862-1938)

 

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --

Ten to make and the match to win --

A bumping pitch and a blinding light,

An hour to play and the last man in.

And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,

Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,

But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote --

'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

The sand of the desert is sodden red, --

Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --

The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead,

And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.

The river of death has brimmed his banks,

And England's far, and Honour a name,

But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:

'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

This is the word that year by year,

While in her place the School is set,

Every one of her sons must hear,

And none that hears it dare forget.

This they all with a joyful mind

Bear through life like a torch in flame,

And falling fling to the host behind -

'Play up! play up! and play the game!' #poem #poetry

Hassan by James Elroy Flecker

Go as a pilgrim and seek out danger

far from the comfort

and the well lit avenues of life.

Pit your every soul against the unknown

and seek stimulation in the company of the brave.

Experience cold and hunger, heat and thirst

and survive to see

another challenge

and another dawn.

Only then will you be at peace

with yourself

and be able to know and to say;

“I look down the farthest side of the mountain,

and fulfilled and understanding all,

and truly content that

I lived a full life and one

that was of  my own choice”

We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go

Always a little further; it may be

Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow

Across that angry or that glimmering sea #poem #poetry