THE Past is like a funeral gone by, <br />The Future comes like an unwelcome guest, <br />And some men gaze behind them to find rest <br />And some urge forward with a stifled sigh; <br />But soft perennial flowers break forth and die, <br />And sweet birds pair and twine a woodland nest; <br />They, sifting all things, find the Present best, <br />And garnish life with that philosophy. <br />Like birds, like flowers, oh! let us live To-day, <br />And leave To-morrow to the Fates' old fingers, <br />And waste no weeping over Yesterday! <br />Lo! round about the golden lustre lingers, <br />The fresh green boughs are full of choral singers, <br />And all the Dryades keep holiday.<br /><br />Edmund William Gosse<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/may-day-12/
