Square your shoulders, lift your pack

A Shropshire Lad by A. E. Housman

LX. Now hollow fires burn out to black
by A.E. Housman

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
And leave your friends and go.

Oh never fear, man, nought’s to dread,
Look not left nor right:
In all the endless road you tread
There’s nothing but the night.