JOIN hands, my dear, clasp long and close and fast, <br />Even this present we shall soon call past, <br />And lay among the unforgotten days, <br />Not the less loved because they could not last. <br /> <br /> <br />Make haste to put our hasty words away, <br />And hide them with dead leaves of yesterday, <br />Cast them aside among forgotten things, <br />Keep the love warm that turns to green life's grey. <br /> <br /> <br />Each little thorn that pricks these present hours <br />Is sure to hide under our memories' flowers, <br />Till we shall say, turning the dry wreath over, <br />'How sweet they were--these dear dead days of ours!'<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lover-s-quarrels/
