THE DEAD PAST.
Yes, gone—for ever gone, We cannot now recall The vanished hours of other days, Yet still their shadows fall, And cast a shade o'er all the light, As when the sun has set at night.
The hopes of other days, When life was bright and fair; It seemed as though the future time
Would be as free from oare; But as the years went swiftly by, The dark clouds gathered in our iky.
We saw the promise tweet, Of fairest, sweetest flowers, They withered even at our feet, Ere we could call them ours. It might have been, and yet wai not, Oh! can it ever be forgot ? Although the past is dead, Its memory still is here ; The happy tones of other days Still echo in our far.
The sound is sad—a note of woe, It might have been, yet was not so! H.J.P.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THS18811015.2.2.2
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Thames Star, Volume XII, Issue 3993, 15 October 1881, Page 1
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148THE DEAD PAST. Thames Star, Volume XII, Issue 3993, 15 October 1881, Page 1
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