Friday, March 1, 2013

From the Pen of Lord Byron

They say that Hope is happiness;
   But genuine Love must prize the past,
And Memory wakes the thoughts that bless;
   They rose the firstthey set the last.

And all that Memory loves the most
    Was once our only Hope to be,
And all that Hope adored and lost
    Hath melted into Memory.

Alas! it is delusion all:
   The future cheats us from afar,
Nor can we be what we recall,
   Nor dare we think on what we are.

                                               1815

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