University of Virginia Library

[The present is the funeral of the past]

The present is the funeral of the past
& man the living sepulchre of life
Still in the past he lives—O would it last
In its own dreams of beauty where the strife
Of passion died—yet trouble ever rife
Dwells on its sweetest tones & harsh all sound
That chord that used to sound the name of wife
On life's jarred [music] now emits no sound
& sweetheart melodys youth lost are nowhere to be found