Oh the golden past, the golden past,
How sweet are thy mem’ries still,
When the castles we’ve builded have crumbled down,
And we wonder that griefs don’t kill;
When the dreams of a life are crushed in the wreck,
And never a joy is reflected back.

The remembrance then of the dear old times,
When the days of our youth were young;
‘Tis sweet to the heart as the first kiss of love,
Or the praise of a sage’s tongue.
It soothes the soul like a zephyr breath,
From the throne of God in the hour of death.

Its dream of hope of the long ago
Will brighten our hopes to come,
And hint that the sorrows which sap the mind
Will sink, and in time be dumb;
Will glisten the tear on the wanderer’s cheek,
Of the by-gone days when the soul would speak.

Oh the days of youth are the happiest days
That mortals will ever know,
When the demons that hinder, refuse, and forbid,
Take flight at the heart’s own glow;
‘Tis the only trace of a paradise
Has e’er been afforded to human eyes.

And thus as we wander up the slope,
On towards the great unknown,
May we ne’er have cause to look back with regret
On the actions the past has sown;
But ponder on words of wrong forgiven,
And seeds of goodness that breathe of heaven.

Samuel Fee Given (S.F.G.)
Cullybackey, December 1864

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