"to sleep, perchance to dream …"
muses the bard of yesterday,
a foreshadowing then --
but a memory now more real than tomorrow.
My aching joints and gristled brow
may dream of days of prancing youth,
and idle hours by a stream,
and entrancing verities.
But why ???
at a nonce I can conjure up then
more suredly than when,
and freeze it in form
and emotion --
relived and cherished,
'tis said, "If I knew then what I know now,"
as a whimsical diversion,
when you can be then,
again and again,
for that is where wisdom comes.