But woe to him, who left to moan,
Reviews the hours of brightness gone.

But woe to him, who left to moan,
Reviews the hours of brightness gone.

The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.

The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.

Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my read more

Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, read more

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment -- but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

of thought.

of thought.

To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.

To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.

If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my
mouth; if I prefer read more

If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my
mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.

Memory is not wisdom; idiots can by rote repeat volumes. Yet what is wisdom without memory?

Memory is not wisdom; idiots can by rote repeat volumes. Yet what is wisdom without memory?

By every remove I only drag a greater length of chain.

By every remove I only drag a greater length of chain.