Poems (E. L. F.)/The Past
For works with similar titles, see The Past.
THE PAST.
Years have fled, and thy day-dreams all
Have been changed by the power of fatality's thrall;
Past love, and past hope, and past care, where are they?
Like the years that best knew thee, have vanished away.
Have been changed by the power of fatality's thrall;
Past love, and past hope, and past care, where are they?
Like the years that best knew thee, have vanished away.
Life's first fairest bloom by its brightness decays,
As the blossom will die that first felt the sun's rays—
Will wither and fall, shed its leaves on the ground;
This is youth's fairest promise—a vision, a sound.
As the blossom will die that first felt the sun's rays—
Will wither and fall, shed its leaves on the ground;
This is youth's fairest promise—a vision, a sound.
We are not what we seem, with the will and the power
To mark out the future—it is not man's dower;
We hope, and we wish, and we mete out our plan,
But fatality rules from the first hour of man.
To mark out the future—it is not man's dower;
We hope, and we wish, and we mete out our plan,
But fatality rules from the first hour of man.
And the hopes that were brightest first wither away,
And the heart that was dearest will change in a day;
Every thought of the future's a dream at the best—
Time gone is the whole that we ever possessed.
And the heart that was dearest will change in a day;
Every thought of the future's a dream at the best—
Time gone is the whole that we ever possessed.
Let the heart linger over the days that are gone—
They are thine, and will yield up their sweetness to none;
We may hope for the future, but a joy of the past
Is thine own heart's for ever, and a joy to the last.
They are thine, and will yield up their sweetness to none;
We may hope for the future, but a joy of the past
Is thine own heart's for ever, and a joy to the last.