Nothing is Lost

A bittersweet poem by Noel Coward that I can't stop pondering. Thanks to Stephen Sloan for introducing it to me.

Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told

Lie all our memories, lie all the notes

Of all the music we have ever heard

And all the phrases those we loved have spoken,

Sorrows and losses time has since consoled,

Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes

Each sentimental souvenir and token

Everything seen, experienced, each word

Addressed to us in infancy, before 

Before we could even know or understand

The implications of our wonderland.

They they all are, the legendary lies

The  birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears 

Forgotten debris of forgotten years

Waiting to be recalled, waiting to rise

Before our world dissolves before our eyes

Waiting for some small, intimate reminder,

A word, a tune, a known familiar scent

An echo from the past when, innocent

We looked upon the present with delight

And doubted not the future would be kinder

And never knew the loneliness of night.

From Collected Verse, edited by Graham Payn & Martin Tickner (copyright Graywolf Press)