The Past Is Finer Poem by Patti Masterman

The Past Is Finer



The past is a finer place to live,
There are miracles, fit to give
A martyr goose-flesh,
A pope a stroke;
And willy-nilly, all things betoken

The past is a finer place to go,
To visit, or to watch the show
You'll see yourself,
As you were then;
Hells-bells, you weren't broken.

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