REMEMBRANCE.
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Each tear is a jewel that bears on its breastSome moment that has been or might have been blest;That "might have been," does it not call up a spell,O'er which we still linger and tenderly dwell?The clasping of hands that once lovingly met,Tho' forever estranged, we can never forget;That sweet thrill of happiness—joy without name,—That vanished as swiftly almost as it came;
That pure exhalation of heavenly bliss—The rapture of love's first bewildering kiss!These things come but once in the lifetime of men;When lost we can never recall them again.But though the hot tears to their memory flow,As we kneel at the grave of the dear long-ago,There still is one joy to the aching heart pressed,And we cling to the thought that we once have been blessed;
That down the dim aisles of the far-away pastSome moments, bright, blissful, if brief, have been cast;Though many bright stars in our heaven have set,They light up the sweet vale of memory yet;
