From Year To Year

An inspiring poem about life and a wish to live my life being positive looking forward not living in the past. A short but very inspiring poem by Henry VanDyke!

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From Year To Year
Poet: Henry VanDyke

Let me but live my life from year to year,
With forward face and unreluctant soul;
Not hurrying to, nor turning from, the goal;
Not mourning for the things that disappear
In the dim past, nor holding back in fear
From what the future veils; but with a whole
And happy heart, that pays its toll
To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer.

So let the way wind up the hill or down,
O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy:
Still seeking what I sought when but a boy,
New friendship, high adventure, and a crown,
My heart will keep the courage of the quest,
And hope the road's last turn will be the best.

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More poems about life while the poets are unknown these poems have been around for years making them famous poems:

The Life Clock
Poet: Unknown

There is a little mystic clock,
No human eye hath seen,
That beateth on,--and beateth on,--
From morning until e'en.

And when the soul is wrapped in sleep,
All silent and alone,
It ticks and ticks the livelong night,
And never runneth down.

Oh! wondrous is that work of art,
Which knells the passing hour;
But art ne'er formed, nor mind conceived,
The life-clock's magic power.

Not set in gold, nor decked with gems,
By wealth and pride possessed;
But rich or poor, or high or low,
Each bears it in his breast.

Such is the clock that measures life,--
Of flesh and spirit blended,--
And thus 'twill run within the breast,
Till that strange life is ended.

The Battle Of Life
Poet: Unknown

Go forth to the Battle of Life, my boy,
Go, while it is called to-day;
For the years go out and the years come in,
Regardless of those who may lose or win -
Of those who may work or play.

And the troops march steadily on, my boy,
To the army gone before;
You may hear the sound of their falling feet
Going down to the river where the two worlds meet,
They go to return no more.

There is room for you in the ranks, my boy,
And duty too assigned;
Step into the front with a cheerful grace,
Be quick, or another may take your place,
And you may be left behind.

There is work to be done by the way, my boy,
That you never can tread again;
Work for the loftiest, lowliest men,
Work for the plough, adze, spindle and pen,
Work for the hands and brain.

The Serpent will follow your steps, my boy,
To lay for your feet a snare;
And Pleasure sits in her fairy bowers,
With garlands of poppies and lotus flowers,
Enwreathing her golden hair.

Temptation will wait by the way, my boy,
Temptations without and within;
And spirits of evil in robes so fair,
As the holiest angels in heaven wear,
Will lure you to deadly sin.

Then put on the armour of God, my boy,
In the beautiful day of youth;
Put on the helmet, breast-plate and shield,
And the sword that the feeblest arm may wield
In the cause of Right and Truth.

And go to the Battle of Life, my boy,
With the peace of the Gospel shod;
And before high Heaven do the best you can,
For the great reward, for the good of man,
For the Kingdom and Crown of God.

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