Classic Poem

A day that died, with slowly-quenched light,
Before the dusk that glided to the west,
Had led its hours along in quiet flight,
With one of joy, that sweeten'd all the rest.
Our minds could never yield the room for all
Our days at once; but God is ever kind,
To let us send away the thoughts of all
But one, and so forget, as well as mind:
Forget a thousand days, and, in their place,
To mind the day that show'd me first your face,
Forget a thousand days, and keep, the while,
The happy day that show'd me first your smile,
Forget a thousand days less highly-blest,
A thousand days less good, and keep the best.