Earth's memories pass like sands that run the hour:
The name of Homer and Shakespeare too,
Shall sometime be forgotten like the dew
That rested yester-morn upon a flower.
We need not hope our lives can gain a power
That shall endure, not even for a day.
The fondest friends when we have passed away
Laugh though they love. Forgetfulness! The dower
Life gives us when we wed his offspring Death.
What would we better than that men forget?
Ay, but the soul has memory, and must bear
The trace of earthly life: the body's breath
Is yielded, but the soul, when time has set,
Marks of defeat or victory shall wear.