 | Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox |  |
THE PAST
I fling my past behind me, like a robeWorn theadbare in the seams, and out of date.
I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep
And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes
Of Oriental splendour, or complain
That I must needs discard it? I can weave
Upon the shuttles of the future years
A fabric far more durable. Subdued,
It may be, in the blending of its hues,
Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam
Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through
While over all a fadeless lustre lies,
And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears
My new robe shall be richer than the old.
| Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox | |