the past.
Every thought of the future's a dream at the best—
Time gone is the whole that we ever possessed.
Time gone is the whole that we ever possessed.
Let the heart linger over the days that are gone—
They are thine, and will yield up their sweetness to none;
We may hope for the future, but a joy of the past
Is thine own heart's for ever, and a joy to the last.
They are thine, and will yield up their sweetness to none;
We may hope for the future, but a joy of the past
Is thine own heart's for ever, and a joy to the last.
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