BURIED TREASURES

’Tis true my later years are blest With all that riches can bestow, But there is wealth, wealth cannot buy, Hid in the mines of “Long Ago.” There jealous guard does Memory keep; Yet sometimes, when I dream alone, She comes and takes my hand in hers, And shows me what was once my own. I revel ’mong such precious things; I count my treasures o’er and o’er; I learn the worth of some, whose worth, Ah me! I never knew before. And then all slowly fades away, And I return to things you know, With empty hands and tear-filled eyes, Back from the mines of “Long Ago.”