Ah mind, now treads thou present on fields of broken glass;
All the while lamenting o'er the tomb of blissful past
That rusts within thy faculties as land beyond the sea,
Or as some lost paradise behind some mountain be;
But blood let and pain felt now is the same as was then
And longing for the past is foolishness and sin.
So soul, haste, fly him free from this delusive ill,
And concentrate on present lest he be cheated still;
But memories wear beauty's and wisdom's livery
Wear not the clothes and subject be to future fallacy.
From future and the present now, what has he to fear
But only that which all must face, and he has Him near.
So wildly, he shall run ahead, his thoughts in kingdom be,
And forget not these words they read, "Before thee lies the sea."