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 we… - Alfred Tennyson

We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
“Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

[...] 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.

All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd To the dancers dancing in tune; Till a silence fell with the waking bird, And a hush with the setting moon.

Old men must die; or the world would grow moldy, would only breed the past again.

What hope is there for modern rhyme
To him, who turns a musing eye
On songs, and deeds, and lives, that lie
Forshorten'd in the tract of time?

These mortal lullabies of pain
May bind a book, may line a box,
May serve to curl a maiden's locks;
Or when a thousand moons shall wane

A man upon a stall may find,
And, passing, turn the page that tells
A grief_ then changed to something else,
Sung by a long forgotten mind.

But what of that? My darken'd ways
Shall ring with music all the same;
To breathe my loss is more than fame,
To utter love more sweet than praise.