To Memory

Miss F. Richardson

Oh Memory, of joy the bane,
Who still abridging pleasure’s store,
Retracest all our woes again,
Till present good can charm no more!

Who but has cause thy power to fear,
(Altho’ by conscience unreprov’d)
Thou who recall’st friends lost, and dear
With ev’ry vanish’d joy we’ve prov’d?

Officious Memory, why intrude?
Why ev’ry sad event renew?
Our present evils, bliss preclude,
Then why past sorrows bring to view?

The charm of hope, thou dost destroy,
Showing its schemes how oft laid low,
Thus thou dispel’st e’en transient joy,
And in the past, give present woe!