Today’s Poem: Ulysses

How shall we age? How shall we die? By seeking one last great thing.

J.M.W. Turner, Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus, 1829 (Wikimedia Commons)

Ulysses

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king, 
By this still hearth, among these barren crags, 
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole 
Unequal laws unto a savage race, 
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. 
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink …