Explore "The Past" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Fling my past behind me, like a robe / Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date. / I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep / And dwell up on its beauty, and its dyes / Of Oriental splendour, or complain / That I must needs discard it? I can weave / Upon the shuttles of the future years / A fabric far more durable. Subdued, / It may be, in the blending of its hues, / Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam / Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through, / While over all a fadeless lustre lies, / And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears, / My new robe shall be richer than the old.