Back on its golden hingesThe gate of Memory swings,And my heart goes into the gardenAnd walks with the olden things.

And I am glad my heart can say,When others trip and fall(Although I safely passed that way),"I understand it all."

This is the way of it, sad earth over,The heart that breaks is the heart of the lover,And the other learns to forget.For what is the use of endless sorrow?Though the sun goes down, it will rise to-morrow;And life is not over yet.

You may choose your words like a connoisseur, And polish it up with art, But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays, Is the word that comes from the heart

Fear is the twin of Faith's sworn foe, Distrust.If one breaks in your heart the other must.

This is the way of it, sad earth over,
The heart that breaks is the heart of the lover,
And the other learns to forget.
For what is the use of endless sorrow?
Though the sun goes down, it will rise to-morrow;
And life is not over yet.