A
PSALM OF LIFE
A PSALM OF LIFE is one of ten best poems written by American
writer, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882).
It is sub-titled “What THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST.’
Written more than 180 years ago in 1838, the poem has an
immortal message for all people, especially the youth. Didactic in tone, it is vigorously
motivational. It shows the romantic
attitude of the poet towards the shortness of human life which can be used ,
like great men before us, to do sublime deeds which future
generations may like to emulate.
There is an evidently existential element in the poem. The poem wants
the readers to forget the past, shun idleness, seize the current moment, act
immediately and find themselves farther than ever before. He does not want them
to trust the uncertain future however pleasant it may appear to be. His clarion call is to keep on acting in the
living present. He has also a
word of rejection against the religious pessimists who preach that man is
mortal; he is merely a handful of dust and ultimately returns to dust after spending
a short time on this earth. According
to him, life is not a sheer dream; its soul is real and the grave is not its
final goal. Here, the poet reminds us of the words of Lord Krishna to Arjuna in
the Gita when he says: that the world is a battle field where an individual has
to fight like a brave hero and leave behind him fadeless footprints on the
sands of time which coming generations may feel inspired to follow. This is the
type of dynamics which the heart of the young man in the subtitle of the poem
wants to hear from the psalmist. Unfortunately most of the Christian psalmists
as well as the preachers of other faiths and religions deliver uninspiring messages
from their pulpits. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is different. He is a new age motivator and inspirer for a
full-spirited active life each moment of the day of a very short life where
each individual has a lot of work to do.
The poem reads as follows:
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
“Life is but an empty dream!”
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not it goal;
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and no sorrow
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us further than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts though stout and
brave,
Still like muffled drums are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, ---in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead.
Lives of great me all remind us
We can our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands 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 labour and to wait.
--------G. R. Kanwal