You'll find it when you come to die

You'll find it when you come to die
The easier to let go,
For recollecting such as went
You could not spare, you know.

And though their places somewhat filled—
As did their marble names
With moss—they never grew so full
You chose the newer times.

And when this world sets further back,
As dying say it does,
The former love distincter grows
And supersedes the fresh.

And thought of them so fair invites,
It looks too tawdry grace
To stay behind with just the toys
We bought to ease their place.