Revolt

Aye! if we dream great deeds, strong men,

Hearts hot, thoughts mighty.

No! if we dream pale flowers,

Slow-moving pageantry of hours that languidly

Drop as o'er-ripened fruit from sallow trees.

If so we live and die not life but dreams,

Great God, grant life in dreams,

Not dalliance, but life!

Let us be men that dream,

Not cowards, dabblers, waiters

For dead Time to reawaken and grant balm

For ills unnamed.

Great God, if we be damn'd to be not men but only dreams,

Then let us be such dreams the world shall tremble at

And know we be its rulers though but dreams!

Then let us be such shadows as the world shall tremble at

And know we be its masters though but shadow!

Great God, if men are grown but pale sick phantoms

That must live only in these mists and tempered lights

And tremble for dim hours that knock o'er loud

Or tread too violent in passing them;

Great God, if these thy sons are grown such thin ephemera,

I bid thee grapple chaos and beget

Some new titanic spawn to pile the hills and stir

This earth again.