A Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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 its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
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,-act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make 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 fare;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn no labor and to wait.
This poem expresses how a person's "footprint in the sands of time" can impact the lives of others. Throughout her life, my mom reached out to countless others in need: cooking meals, collecting and serving food banks, clothing, visiting nursing homes, teaching children Sunday School, sharing her garden, comforting and praying for family, friends and neighbors. She has left footprints for us to follow on how to be kind, compassionate and to love and serve others.
In Loving Memory
Mary Lee Smith-Brown
April 16, 1928 Canton, Georgia
July 19, 2019 Columbus, Georgia
