PLEASURES OF MEMORY

Hail! Memory hail! In thy exhaustless mine,
From age to age unnumbre'd treasures shine,
Thought & her shadowy brood they call obey,
And place & time are subject to thy sway,
Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone,
The only pleasures we call our own,
Lighter than air, hope's summer-visions die,
If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky,
If but a beam of sober reasons play,
Lo! Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away,
But can the wiles of art the grasp of power,
Snatch the relics of a well spent hour,
These when the trembling spirit wings her flight,
pour round her path a stream of living light,
And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest,
Where virtue triumphs and her sons are blest!