Favorite People, Favorite Places, Favorite Memories of the past ... These are the joys of a lifetime Those are the things that last
The shadow by my finger cast Divides the future from the past: Before it, sleeps the unborn hour, In darkness, and beyond thy power. Behind its unreturning line, The vanished hour, no longer thine: One hour alone is in thy hands,- The NOW on which the shadow stands.
So in the heart, When, fading slowly down the past, Fond memories depart, And each that leaves it seems the last; Long after all the rest are flown, Returns a solitary tone, The after-echo of departed years, And touches all the soul to tears.
I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack;The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.