FORGET.
Forget the past, ’tis dead and gone.—
When book is read, no further con
The pages old; unless therein
There’s something that will ever win
A throb of joy within thy heart,
And of thy life seem e’en a part.
The sacred present we will hold.
The future to us will unfold.
The dead, dead past shall be entombed;
Forget it dear, for it is doomed
To mould in grave, to dust return,
All record of that past we’ll burn.
Begin the “Book of Life” anew;
This book we’ll not with tears bedew.
In it we’ll have but love, and peace,
All bitterness of past must cease.
The present, and the future be
Love’s sweetest song, and symphony.