SOON did he Almighty Giver of all rest
Take those dear young Ones to a fearless nest;
And in Death's arms has long reposed the Friend
For whom this simple Register was penned.
Thanks to the moth that spared it for our eyes;
And Strangers even the slighted Scroll may prize,
Moved by the touch of kindred sympathies.
For--save the calm, repentance sheds o'er strife
Raised by remembrances of misused life,
The light from past endeavours purely willed
And by Heaven's favour happily fulfilled;
Save hope that we, yet bound to Earth, may share
The joys of the Departed--what so fair
As blameless pleasure, not without some tears,
Reviewed through Love's transparent veil of years?
William Wordsworth
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/upon-perusing-the-forgoing-epistle-thirty-years-after-its-composition/
