Yet still the bosom will retain
Affection even for hours of pain;
And we can smile, though bathed in tears,
At memory of departed years.
’Tis distance, our bewildered gaze
On former scenes, beguiles,
And memory’s charm the eye betrays;
For while enjoyments it displays
And robes the past in smiles,
Its nattering mirror proves untrue,
Conceals the sorrows from our view,
And hides the griefs, the doubts, and fears,
That darkened our departed years!
Time, when our own, we oft despise;
When gone, its loss deplore;
Nor, till the fleeting moment flies,
Do mortals learn its worth to prize,
When it returns no more.
For this, an anxious look we cast,
With fond regret, on hours long past—
For this, the feeling heart reveres
The memory of departed years!
1810.
