LOOK into the past—there are pictures
Detaining the sunshine of May,
All aquiver with light they turn to the sight,
Like a flower that faces the day.
How restful the hillsides and shady!
The brook like a song passeth by,
And the trespassing moon floats about through noon,
Like a bubble blown up in the sky.
Look into the past! It is happy;
Its voices are voices of youth;