Page:Underwoods, Stevenson, 1887.djvu/70

46 Poor passionate men, still clothed afresh

With agonising folds of flesh;

Whom the clear eyes solicit still

To some bold output of the will,

While fairy Fancy far before

And musing Memory-Hold-the-door

Now to heroic death invite

And now uncurtain fresh delight:

O, little boots it thus to dwell

On the remote unneighboured hill!

O to be up and doing, O

Unfearing and unshamed to go

In all the uproar and the press

About my human business!

My undissuaded heart I hear

Whisper courage in my ear.

With voiceless calls, the ancient earth

Summons me to a daily birth.