LOOKING back along life’s trodden way
Gleams and greenness linger on the track;
Distance metes and mellows all to-day,
Rose and purple and a silvery grey,
Is that cloud the cloud we called so thick?
Evening harmonizes all to-day,
BUT, indeed, with the passing of years, the decay of strength, the loss of all my old active pleasant habits, there grows more and more upon me that belief in the kindness of this scheme of things, and the goodness of our veiled God, which is an excellent and pacifying compensation.
Robert Louis Stevenson
AS one is getting old, and looks forward with fear rather than with hope to what is still in store for us, one learns to appreciate more and more the never-failing pleasure of recalling all the bright and happy days that are gone. Gone they are, but they are not lost. Ever present to our calling and recalling, they assume at last a vividness, such as they hardly had when present, and when we poor souls were trembling for every day and hour and minute that was going, and ever going, and would not and could not abide.