| OUT of the sun, out of the blast, | |
| Out of the world, alone I passed | |
| Across the moor and through the wood | |
| To where the monastery stood. | |
| There neither lute nor breathing fife, | 5 |
| Nor rumour of the world of life, | |
| Nor confidences low and dear, | |
| Shall strike the meditative ear. | |
| Aloof, unhelpful, and unkind, | |
| The prisoners of the iron mind, | 10 |
| Where nothing speaks except the bell | |
| The unfraternal brothers dwell. | |
| Poor passionate men, still clothed afresh | |
| With agonising folds of flesh; | |
| Whom the clear eyes solicit still | 15 |
| 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: | 20 |
| 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 | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| Thou, O my love, ye, O my friends— | |
| The gist of life, the end of ends— | |
| To laugh, to love, to live, to die, | |
| Ye call me by the ear and eye! | |
| |
| Forth from the casemate, on the plain | 35 |
| Where honour has the world to gain, | |
| Pour forth and bravely do your part, | |
| O knights of the unshielded heart! | |
| Forth and forever forward!—out | |
| From prudent turret and redoubt, | 40 |
| And in the mellay charge amain, | |
| To fall but yet to rise again! | |
| Captive? ah, still, to honour bright, | |
| A captive soldier of the right! | |
| Or free and fighting, good with ill? | 45 |
| Unconquering but unconquered still! | |
| |
| And ye, O brethren, what if God, | |
| When from Heav’n’s top he spies abroad, | |
| And sees on this tormented stage | |
| The noble war of mankind rage: | 50 |
| What if his vivifying eye, | |
| O monks, should pass your corner by? | |
| |
| For still the Lord is Lord of might; | |
| In deeds, in deeds, he takes delight; | |
| The plough, the spear, the laden barks, | 55 |
| The field, the founded city, marks; | |
| He marks the smiler of the streets, | |
| The singer upon garden seats; | |
| He sees the climber in the rocks; | |
| To him, the shepherd folds his flocks. | 60 |
| For those he loves that underprop | |
| With daily virtues Heaven’s top, | |
| And bear the falling sky with ease, | |
| Unfrowning caryatides. | |
| Those he approves that ply the trade, | 65 |
| That rock the child, that wed the maid, | |
| That with weak virtues, weaker hands, | |
| Sow gladness on the peopled lands, | |
| And still with laughter, song and shout, | |
| Spin the great wheel of earth about. | 70 |
| |
| But ye?—O ye who linger still | |
| Here in your fortress on the hill, | |
| With placid face, with tranquil breath, | |
| The unsought volunteers of death, | |
| Our cheerful General on high | 75 |
| With careless looks may pass you by. | |
