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'T is sweet to think of days gone by,
When life and all its charms were new,
And seem'd as bright to childhood's eye,
As morning's liquid gems of dew.
To think of joys that long have fled,
Of youthful hopes indulged in vain,
Of feelings waken'd from the dead,
And sorrows that have ceased to pain.
To let the thoughts excursive rove,
In many a wild prophetic dream,
To pour the prayer for those we love
And feel that we are dear to them—
To think of friends we fondly loved,
Who calmly now in darkness sleep,
By all our joys and griefs unmoved—
To think with soften'd breast and weep!
Oh! well such moments can repay,
For lingering hours of darker thought,
When hope has bent ‘neath sorrow's sway,
And feeling is with anguish fraught.
poem
by
Elizabeth Margaret Chandler
from
Poetical Works
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