THE Past, the Past, is all mine own;
That treasure none can filch away.
What though I walk in paths unknown
(Each morrow darker than the day);
Though not a single friendly ray
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Pierce the thick cloud, but I alone
Be left to sorrow and dismay;
Though no new light illume my way,
The old light cannot fade away:
The Past, the Past, is all mine own.
Or if with her I love, I stray
(The days of darkness having flown)
Through sunny fields by generous May
With her best treasures thickly strewn,
Though lights as fair illume my way,
This light I will not cast away:
The Past, the Past, is all mine own!
E. C. P.
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