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A Hundred Years from Now
Music by Carried Jacobs-Bond
Words by John Bennett

Published by Carrie Jacobs-Bond & Son


A hundred years from now, dear,
We shall not care at all;
It will not matter then, a whit,
The honey or the gall.
The summer days, that we have known,
Will all forgotten be, and flown,
Where now the roses fall,
Where now the roses fall.
A hundred years from now, dear,
We shall not mind the pain;
The throbbing, crimson tide of life
Will not have left a stain.
The song we sand together, dear,
Will mean no more, than means a tear
Amid a summer rain.
A hundred years from now, dear
We'll neither know nor care,
What 'came of all life's bitterness,
Or fellowed leve's despair.
Then fill the glasses up again,
And kiss me thro' the rose-leaf rain;
We'll build one castle more, in Spain,
And dream, one more dream there



The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.