Classic Poem

Back , ye Phantoms of the Past,
In your dreary caves remain:
What have I to do with memories
Of a long-forgotten pain?

For my Present is all peaceful,
And my Future nobly planned:
Long ago Time's mighty billows
Swept your footsteps from the sand.

Back into your caves; nor haunt me
With your voices full of woe;
I have buried grief and sorrow
In the depths of Long-ago.

See the glorious clouds of morning
Roll away, and clear and bright
Shine the rays of cloudless daylight: —
Wherefore will ye moan of night?

Never shall my heart be burdened
With its ancient woe and fears;
I can drive them from my presence,
I can check these foolish tears.

Back, ye Phantoms; leave, O leave me,
To a new and happy lot;
Speak no more of things departed;
Leave me — for I know ye not.

Can it be that 'mid my gladness
I must ever hear you wail,
Of the grief that wrung my spirit,
And that made my cheek so pale?

Joy is mine; but your sad voices
Murmur ever in mine ear:
Vain is all the Future's promise,
While the dreary Past is here.

Vain, O worse than vain, the Visions
That my heart, my life, would fill,
If the Past's relentless phantoms
Call upon me still!