Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough 
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades 
For ever and for ever when I move. 
How dull it is to pause, to make an end, 
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!

Death closes all: but something ere the end, 
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Come, my friends, 
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though 
We are not now that strength which in old days 
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; 
One equal temper of heroic hearts, 
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

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