Classic Poem

On memory's progressless sea
Then let me, stagnant, lie
And rot with my remembrances
Until I, stagnant, die!

No gospel preach to me, I pray,
That robs me of the bliss —
Still sweetly tasted on my lips —
Of a sainted mother's kiss!

That teaches that the childish prayer
I prattled at her knee
Was silly nonsense, and unfit
To be recalled by me!

That teaches that a father's care,
The precepts that it taught,
Are wisdomless, devoid of truth,
And hence, accounted naught!

That sees in youth and love's first dream
No lessons that the mind
On Karma set, on progress bent,
Some benefit may find!

That would ignore the consciousness
Of life's maturer sins;
That teaches that with every day
Another life begins!

That dims the blush, that blunts the sting
Of an unworthy deed;
That teaches that of memory's whip
No mortal hath a need!

Ah, no, I'll suffer for my faults
Each wretched night and day;
And in kind acts small comfort find
In the old, old-fashioned way.

So, then, on memory's changeless sea
Pray, let me, stagnant, lie
And rot with my remembrances
Until I, stagnant, die!