Classic Poem

There was a time when I was not;
There comes a time I shall not be;
This conscious dust, its joys and tears,
Its fragile hopes and foolish fears,
Shall pass away and be forgot—
Ah, even by thee!

The spring blooms on the ruined year,
The old is buried in the new;
And who remembers last year's flowers,
Its pleasant skies and sunny hours,
Or gives the vanished past a tear?
Alas! how few!

'Tis well. What nature does is best;
'Tis well for us we can forget,
And after sorrow smile again;
Else life were but an endless pain,
And memory one bitter quest,
One long regret.