Come , my friends,

                'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

             Push off, and sitting well in order smite

                The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

              To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

           Of all the western stars, until I die.

            It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:

            It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

            And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

            Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

             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.

         From 'Ulysses', Alfred Tennyson

          Photo:
           Amos John Bertram

                                                                                1898-1958
 
 

           

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