Dissolving Views
When I have been long gone, if one I love,
And who loves me, shall chance upon a ring,
That I have worn, or any simple thing, —
A knot of ribbon, or a faded glove, —
I wonder if the sight of it will move
To fond remembrance, and if tears will spring,
And if the sudden memory will bring
A sudden sadness over field and grove.
Perhaps: and yet how quickly we forget!
And how new scenes, new faces that we meet,
Crowd out the old, — until the world grows gay
Above forgotten graves. Softest regret
Grows stale by keeping; and, however sweet,
No past has quite the sweetness of to-day.
And who loves me, shall chance upon a ring,
That I have worn, or any simple thing, —
A knot of ribbon, or a faded glove, —
I wonder if the sight of it will move
To fond remembrance, and if tears will spring,
And if the sudden memory will bring
A sudden sadness over field and grove.
Perhaps: and yet how quickly we forget!
And how new scenes, new faces that we meet,
Crowd out the old, — until the world grows gay
Above forgotten graves. Softest regret
Grows stale by keeping; and, however sweet,
No past has quite the sweetness of to-day.
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