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.