 | The poetical writings of the late Willis Gaylord Clark |  |
79
MEMORY.
'T is sweet to remember! I would not foregoThe charm which the past o'er the present can throw,
For all the gay visions that Fancy may weave
In her web of illusion, that shines to deceive.
We know not the future—the past we have felt—
Its cherished enjoyments the bosom can melt;
Its raptures anew o'er our pulses may roll,
When thoughts of the morrow fall cold on the soul.
I.
'T is sweet to remember! When storms are abroad,
To see in the rainbow the promise of God:
The day may be darkened, but far in the west,
In vermilion and gold, sinks the sun to his rest;
With smiles like the morning he passeth away:
Thus the beams of delight on the spirit can play,
When in calm reminiscence we gather the flowers
Which love scattered round us in happier hours.
To see in the rainbow the promise of God:
The day may be darkened, but far in the west,
In vermilion and gold, sinks the sun to his rest;
With smiles like the morning he passeth away:
Thus the beams of delight on the spirit can play,
When in calm reminiscence we gather the flowers
Which love scattered round us in happier hours.
80
'T is sweet to remember! When friends are unkind,
When their coldness and carelessness shadow the mind;
Then, to draw back the veil which envelops a land
Where delectable prospects in beauty expand;
To smell the green fields, the fresh waters to hear
Whose once fairy music enchanted the ear;
To drink in the smiles that delighted us then,
To list the fond voices of childhood again;
O, this the sad heart, like a reed that is bruised,
Binds up, when the banquet of hope is refused.
When their coldness and carelessness shadow the mind;
Then, to draw back the veil which envelops a land
Where delectable prospects in beauty expand;
To smell the green fields, the fresh waters to hear
Whose once fairy music enchanted the ear;
To drink in the smiles that delighted us then,
To list the fond voices of childhood again;
O, this the sad heart, like a reed that is bruised,
Binds up, when the banquet of hope is refused.
'T is sweet to remember! And naught can destroy
The balm-breathing comfort, the glory, the joy,
Which spring from that fountain to gladden our way,
When the changeful and faithless desert or betray.
I would not forget! though my thoughts should be dark,
O'er the ocean of life I look back from my bark,
And I see the lost Eden, where once I was blest,
A type and a promise of heavenly rest.
The balm-breathing comfort, the glory, the joy,
Which spring from that fountain to gladden our way,
When the changeful and faithless desert or betray.
I would not forget! though my thoughts should be dark,
O'er the ocean of life I look back from my bark,
And I see the lost Eden, where once I was blest,
A type and a promise of heavenly rest.
| The poetical writings of the late Willis Gaylord Clark | |