MEMORY.

And, when the stream
Which overflowed the soul was passed away,
A consciousness remained that it had left,
Deposited upon the silent shore
Of memory, images and precious thoughts
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
The Excursion, Bk.  VII.  W. WORDSWORTH.

  I cannot but remember such things were,
  That were most precious to me.
Macbeth, Act iv.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

  This memory brightens o’er the past,
    As when the sun concealed
  Behind some cloud that near us hangs,
    Shines on a distant field.
A Gleam of Sunshine.  H.W.  LONGFELLOW.

  I count myself in nothing else so happy
  As in a soul rememb’ring my good friends;
  And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
  It shall be still thy true love’s recompense.
Richard II., Act ii.  Sc. 3.  SHAKESPEARE.

  The sweet remembrance of the just
  Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust.
Psalm CXII.  TATE AND BRADY.

  When he shall hear she died upon his words,
  Th’ idea of her life shall sweetly creep
  Into his study of imagination,
  And every lovely organ of her life
  Shall come apparelled in more precious habit,
  More moving-delicate, and full of life,
  Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
  Than when she lived indeed.
Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

    Thou, thou alone, shall dwell forever. 
  And still shall recollection trace
    In fancy’s mirror, ever near,
  Each smile, each tear, upon that face—­
    Though lost to sight, to memory dear.
Though Lost to Sight, to Memory Dear.  T. MOORE.

Joy’s recollection is no longer joy,
While sorrow’s memory is a sorrow still.
Doge of Venice.  LORD BYRON.

                       Of joys departed,
  Not to return, how painful the remembrance!
The Grave.  R. BLAIR.

He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
Romeo and Juliet, Act i.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!
Old Dobbin.  R. COOK.

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed! 
How sweet their memory still! 
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.
Walking with God.  W. COWPER.

              While memory holds a seat
  In this distracted globe.  Remember thee? 
  Yea, from the table of my memory
  I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records,
  All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
  That youth and observation copied there;
  And thy commandment all alone shall live
  Within the book and volume of my brain.
Hamlet, Act i.  Sc. 5.  SHAKESPEARE.

The leaves of memory seem to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.
The Fire of Driftwood.  H.W.  LONGFELLOW.