The Past

THE PAST. How wild and dim this Life appears! One long, deep, heavy sigh! When o'er our eyes, half-clos'd in tears, The images of former years Are faintly glimmering by! And still forgotten while they go, As on the sea-beach wave on wave Dissolves at once in snow. Upon the blue and silent sky The amber clouds one moment lie, And like a dream are gone! Though beautiful the moon-beams play On the lake's bosom, bright as they, And the soul intensely loves their stay, Soon as the radiance melts away We scarce believe it shone! Heaven-airs amid the harp-strings dwell, And we wish they ne'er may fade— They cease! and the soul is a silent cell, Where music never played. Dream follows dream through the long night-hours, Each lovelier than the last— But ere the breath of morning-flowers, That gorgeous world flies past. And many a sweet angelic cheek, Whose smiles of love and kindness speak, Glides by us on this earth— While in a day we cannot tell Where shone the face we loved so well In sadness or in mirth. N.