Which is more fair,

The star of morning or the evening star?

The sunrise or the sunset of the heart?

The hour when we look forth to the unknown,

And the advancing day consumes the shadows,

Or that when all the landscape of our lives

Lies stretched behind us, and familiar places

Gleam in the distance, and sweet memories

Rise like a tender haze, and magnify

The objects we behold, that soon must vanish?

—HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW