And strange the day in which I wish them here.
But odder still the way it came to be,
And yet more wonders are en route I fear.
So I will meditate upon the past
And bear my spirits up with former charms
Lest I should feel the dark and chilly blast
Of worry wash across me. Future harms
Cannot be voided by the mute appeal
Of my nostalgia, but may be reduced
And so I think of what I used to feel
And not what that in latter times produced.
Spare me from such companions, yet be sure
To spare me also from the threats they cure.
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