Oft I remember those I have known <br />In other days, to whom my heart was lead <br />As by a magnet, and who are not dead, <br />But absent, and their memories overgrown <br />With other thoughts and troubles of my own, <br />As graves with grasses are, and at their head <br />The stone with moss and lichens so o'er spread, <br />Nothing is legible but the name alone. <br />And is it so with them? After long years. <br />Do they remember me in the same way, <br />And is the memory pleasant as to me? <br />I fear to ask; yet wherefore are my fears? <br />Pleasures, like flowers, may wither and decay, <br />And yet the root perennial may be.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memories/
