Classic Poem

There are two Beings, rich in wondrous powers,
Twin-sisters, kindly wont to dwell with man:
One owns the treasures of all future hours;
The other grasps the past within her span; —

Hope ever smiling, bright with thousand dyes
From the gay hues distill'd of golden morn;
And Memory breathing softly-soothing sighs,
Sweet as the rose, yet not without its thorn.

These two together, through life's weary way
Trip hand in hand, and scatter fairy flowers;
Together breathe around inspiring day,
And water desert earth with genial showers.

Apart — so speaks a voice from yonder grave —
The power of each to bless, no more may last;
Without a future, who the past would crave?
And who a future, if denied the past?