Earthly scenes are worth preserving,
Bitter though they sometimes be;
Who would wish to sink in Lethe
All the fruits of Memory?
None could dare offend his Maker
By a wish so rash and vain;
For by this kind boon from Heaven
Life is all lived o'er again.

In the silent hour of twilight,
Thoughts of by-gone days will come,
Stealing o'er our better feelings,
Bringing back our early home;
All the soothing words of friendship
Spoken by a tongue now still,
Touch the fountains near our heart-strings,
And our eyes with moisture fill.

Tender, oh, how sweetly tender,
Are the musings of an hour,
When the mellowing scenes around us
Give to Memory magic power;
Thought recalls those scenes long parted,
Life epitomized appears,
Moments then reflect a lifetime
Reaching back through many years.

Oh, how blessed are those moments!
Present scenes can never fire
Such a rapture in our bosom
As fond Memory can inspire;
Naught on earth can e'er be spoken
To attract the living ear,
Like the words of the departed
Uttered when among us here.

Time and Death have made them sacred,
Memory calls them oft to mind,
And her choicest, dearest treasures,
She for them has oft entwined;
This is but a simple homage,
Richly paying him who kneels;
He who's prompted by such feelings,
For his fellow being feels.

Dark must be that soul enshrouded,
Which Oblivion would prefer
To the soothing power of Memory
And the influence shed by her:
Life itself is not worth having
If deprived of such a bliss,
Earth has not another treasure
That we may compare with this.