Saturday's Good Reading: "Phantoms" by Adelaide Anne Procter (in English).

Back, ye Phantoms of the Past
 In your dreary caves remain:
What have I to do with memories
 Of a long-forgotten pain?

For my Present is all peaceful,
 And my Future nobly planned:
Long ago Time's mighty billows
 Swept your footsteps from the sand.

Back into your caves; nor haunt me
 With your voices full of woe;
I have buried grief and sorrow
 In the depths of Long-ago.

See the glorious clouds of morning
 Roll away, and clear and bright
Shine the rays of cloudless daylight:—
 Wherefore will ye moan of night?

Never shall my heart be burthened
 With its ancient woe and fears;
I can drive them from my presence,
 I can check these foolish tears.

Back, ye Phantoms; leave, O leave me,
 To a new and happy lot;
Speak no more of things departed;
 Leave me—for I know ye not.

Can it be that 'mid my gladness
 I must ever hear you wail,
Of the grief that wrung my spirit,
 And that made my cheek so pale?

Joy is mine; but your sad voices
 Murmur ever in mine ear:
Vain is all the Future's promise,
 While the dreary Past is here.

Vain, O worse than vain, the Visions
 That my heart, my life, would fill,
If the Past's relentless phantoms
 Call upon me still!