Ode
Arthur O'Shaughnessy
1844 to 1881
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We are the music-makers,
And we are the of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For age is a dream that is dying,
Or that is coming to birth.