Classic Poem

As who unlocks a half-forgotten chest
Where hide old keepsakes, heirlooms, letters, books,
E'en so is he whose gray-browed leisure looks
Into the casket of his youthful breast
For treasured trinkets there so long possessed,
So alien to his use that not his own
They seem, but some dear kinsman's he has known
Long, long ago, some confidential guest.
Ah sacred relics of remembered years!
And of a foregone selfhood, whither fled?
Young hope, first love, heroic fervor past!
The eye of memory o'erbrims with tears; —
Mourn for thyself and thy delusions dead,
And shut the trove of recollection fast!