Tower of Ivory/Morituri

by Archibald MacLeish

MORITURI

Not as Ulysses, overwise with age,
Shall we sail out beyond the westward gate
Into the unknown seas. Not destinate,
And weary of man's seeking, and the mage
Of subtle-changing earth and that vast sky
Where wonder walks, shall we sail curious
To do the last adventure. Oh, not thus,
Not satisfied with living, shall we die.

But we shall meet death running, with our lips
Still glad of the morning; and with widening eyes
Still thirsty for the light, we shall surprise
The secret under that old hooded Fear,
And touch that face with eager finger-tips,
And find but Change, who crowns with youth the year.