The Past, it is fraught with many a feeling Of pleasure, of sadness, of joy, and of pain; And ’tis sweet of an eve when dewdrops are falling, To reflect on the days that can ne’er come again.
The Past, it is pleasant! Ah, memory recalls The period of childhood, when joyous and free, With innocence crowned, in purity robed, We revelled in gladness and sported in glee.
The Past, it is saddening! full many a loved one That joined in each pleasure, partook of each pain, Have passed on before, to the spirit land flown, And left us below, till their prize we attain.
The Past’s irrevocable! every word we’ve spoken, Or action committed, been stamp’d with its seal Immortal, enduring, ’twill stand sure forever, As no time can efface, nor effulgence reveal.
Then, then, should the Present be valued and used As a boon from the Author and Giver of gifts; That so, when ’tis past, we could always enjoy The pleasant assurance of its being well spent.