Lessons of the Past

FROM mem’ry’s lofty vantage ground

Our mental gaze we shift around

O’er stretches of the past.

We see dim realms of fading glory

The trysting place of figures hoary,

Whose plaintive accents sound one story:

God’s world alone doth last.

We see the trophies won in strife

That graced the triumphs of our life

Lie strewn in sad array.

Each mould’ring relic wails a strain,

The warning dirge of myriads slain

Whose echoes roll an old refrain:

All earthly must decay.

But in this threnody that saddens

A message rings that ever gladdens,

Ne’er perish soul and name,

Though strongest hopes be broken,

Yet every good word spoken

Remains sweet mem’ry’s token

Of amaranthine fame.