THEY say that Hope is happiness; But genuine Love must prize the past, And Memory wakes the thoughts that bless; They rose the first -- they set the last. And all that Memory loves the most Was once our only Hope to be, And all that Hope adored and lost Hath melted into Memory. Alas! it is delusion all; The future cheats us from afar, Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD A SONG OF WORK by MARY (MAY) ELIZABETH (MCGRATH) BLAKE NATURAL MAGIC by ROBERT BROWNING THE OLD MAN'S FUNERAL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE HERB-LEECH by JOSEPH CAMPBELL ON THE SIGHT OF A GENTLEWOMAN'S FACE IN THE WATER by THOMAS CAREW |