This is monumental. I don’t share my age with anyone, but when I came upon this poem, it was too good to pass up because this poem can only be celebrated on one day in your life, the day before your (thhhhhirdddyzzzevthhzhhhhh)….birthday! I was just hoping that I could share it on a really slow day so no one would really read it, haha.
My fingers are crossed.
–Or maybe I should just admit that I’ve grown up.

But you see, Lord Byron and I share a common day today. He wrote about it…and now I’m living it!
 (Good ol’ eccentric Byron—never for a second did I suspect we’d ever have a connection between us).

On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year

‘T IS time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!

My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!

The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some Volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze–
A funeral pile.

The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
But wear the chain.

But ‘t is not _thus_–and ‘t is not _here_
Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now
Where Glory decks the hero’s bier,
Or binds his brow.

The Sword, the Banner, and the Field,
Glory and Greece, around me see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,
Was not more free.

Awake! (not Greece–she _is_ awake!)
Awake, my spirit! Think through _whom_
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,
And then strike home!

Tread those reviving passions down,
Unworthy manhood!–unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of Beauty be.

If thou regret’st thy youth, _why live_?
The land of honourable death
Is here:–up to the Field, and give
Away thy breath!

Seek out–less often sought than found–
A soldier’s grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,
And take thy Rest.

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