MY PAST
All yesterday I was carving
A stone for the buried Past,
That should serve as reminder, and token
Of beauties that did not last.
I scarcely paused at my labor,
Unheeding the restless smart,
That I thought was only memory,
Whispering close to my heart.
A stone for the buried Past,
That should serve as reminder, and token
Of beauties that did not last.
I scarcely paused at my labor,
Unheeding the restless smart,
That I thought was only memory,
Whispering close to my heart.
And only when earth and heaven
Were bright with the setting sun,
Did I lay down chisel and hammer,
And feel that my task was done.
All through the night's long stillness,
I watched by my dead Past's grave,
Hearing from Time's deep ocean
The murmur of many a wave.
Were bright with the setting sun,
Did I lay down chisel and hammer,
And feel that my task was done.
All through the night's long stillness,
I watched by my dead Past's grave,
Hearing from Time's deep ocean
The murmur of many a wave.
I counted the hours as they vanished,
And said when the morn should gleam,
I would take up the cross I had chiselled
With many a heart-kept dream;
And place it there as a headstone,
That should tell where my Past was at rest,
Then say one farewell, and departing,
Fold the Present, as friend, to my breast.
And said when the morn should gleam,
I would take up the cross I had chiselled
With many a heart-kept dream;
And place it there as a headstone,
That should tell where my Past was at rest,
Then say one farewell, and departing,
Fold the Present, as friend, to my breast.
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