THE past she ruleth. At her wand Its temple-valvee unfold, And from their glorious shrines descend The mighty forms of old; To her deep voice the dead reply, Dry bones are clothed and live, Long-perish'd garlands bloom anew, And buried joys revive. When o'er the future many a shade Like saddening twilight steals, Or the dimm'd present to the heart Its vapidness reveals, She opes her casket, and a cloud Of treasured incense steams, Till with a lifted heart we tread The pleasant land of dreams. Make friends of potent Memory, Oh young man, in thy prime, And store with jewels rich and rare Her hoard for hoary time; For if thou mockest her with weeds, A trifler 'mid her bowers, -- She'll drop their poison on thy soul 'Mid life's disastrous hours. Make friends of potent Memory Oh Maiden in thy bloom, And bind her closely to thy heart Before the days of gloom; For sorrow softeneth into joy Beneath her touch sublime, And she celestial robes can weave From the frail threads of time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STIRRUP-CUP by LOUIS UNTERMEYER UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES by ROBERT HERRICK THE DREAMER by SHAEMAS O'SHEEL A TERRE (BEING THE PHILOSOPHY OF MANY SOLDIERS) by WILFRED OWEN EPITAPH ON HIMSELF by MATTHEW PRIOR |