The Past is flowing through my thoughts-
Flowing like a sea;
With all its billows dancing bright
Over what?-an undermight
Of darkling loss and destiny.
Still it floweth through my thoughts-
Floweth like a sea;
While of worn hope I ask alway,
Like an unsought cast-astray-
What can the future bring to me?

And hope herself admits: To thee
But a darkening scene-
Only slow days of care and doubt,
Only a dreary lengthening out,
Of what this later past hath been.