Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream.
For the soul is dead that slumbers
And life is not what it seems.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal.
"Dust thou art to dust returneth"
Was not spoken of the soul.

Lives of grat men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime.
And departing leave behind us
Footprints in the sand of time.

Footprints that, perhaps, another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing
with a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.