FORGET.
Forget the past, ’tis dead and gone.—When book is read, no further conThe pages old; unless thereinThere’s something that will ever winA throb of joy within thy heart,And of thy life seem e’en a part.The sacred present we will hold.The future to us will unfold.The dead, dead past shall be entombed;Forget it dear, for it is doomedTo mould in grave, to dust return,All record of that past we’ll burn.Begin the “Book of Life” anew;This book we’ll not with tears bedew.In it we’ll have but love, and peace,All bitterness of past must cease.The present, and the future beLove’s sweetest song, and symphony.
Forget the past, ’tis dead and gone.—When book is read, no further conThe pages old; unless thereinThere’s something that will ever winA throb of joy within thy heart,And of thy life seem e’en a part.The sacred present we will hold.The future to us will unfold.The dead, dead past shall be entombed;Forget it dear, for it is doomedTo mould in grave, to dust return,All record of that past we’ll burn.Begin the “Book of Life” anew;This book we’ll not with tears bedew.In it we’ll have but love, and peace,All bitterness of past must cease.The present, and the future beLove’s sweetest song, and symphony.