Each hath his drug for sorrow
—(Or else the pain would slay!)
For one, it is “To-morrow”;
—For one, 'tis “Yesterday.”

“And hast thou lost, my Brother?”
—“Yea, but in dreams I find.”
“And I” (so saith another)
—“Leave buried dead behind!”

For each, when gyves are fretting,
—A different balm must be.
Some find it in forgetting,
—And some in memory.