FORGET-ME-NOT.

As erst I wandered, lone, in sadness,
Still bending toward the glowing West,
And smiling Nature, breathing gladness,

In Summer's verdant robe was drest; While thought reverted back to childhood, traced each well-known spot,

And memory
I paused a sudden, in the wildwood,

To mark the flower-" Forget-me-not."

'Twas strange, within the forest shadows To meet a pink of so much fame,

Whose place, methought, should be the meadows, Where first the Nymphs invoked its name:

Yet sure the gentle flower was planted

To charm some wanderer's eye, I wot,

As on its petals slept, enchanted,

The hallowed wish-"Forget me not."

There is a love which burns in sorrow,
And glows the warmer in regret,-
A love which hath no hopeful morrow,
Till Time's beclouded sun hath set:
The memory of the dear departed,

For ever hovering in the thought,
Still smiling on the broken-hearted,

And whispering still-" Forget me not."

That grief which chains the soul its mourner,
Fell o'er my cheek, in gushing tears,—

That grief, my fellow-fast sojourner,

Thro' days, and weeks, and months, and years! My strength, my pride, my hope—my darling! My angel Boy, was and is not!

And bent I there, in childless yearning,
Upon the lone" Forget-me-not."

The little prattler Heaven transplanted,
Kiss me, I said, before he went;
He heard, for that the Cherub panted,
And toward my lips his own he bent :-
He could not speak, for he was dying,
But with a look, of love begot,

His eye, imploringly replying,

Did seem to say-" Forget me not."

Forget thee, WILLIAM! Ah, no, never !——
My heart shall nurse thy memory,

Until the breaking strings dissever,

And my freed spirit flies to thee!-
Thus, while I mourn, in sorrow driven,
With penury and pain my lot,

Bend down on thy lone sire from Heaven,
And, child beloved-"Forget me not."

What mournful vigils doth he number,

Whose hearth is cold, whose heart is blight! Ah, who for him shall watch that slumber, Wherein he bids the world good night! Yet calm, resigned, he might surrender, Did that dear one bend o'er the cot, To whom the passing soul could render, "Friend of my heart, 'Forget me not.'"

When my last moments Time is stealing,
When Death's dark film is on mine eyes,
And Nature's change about revealing,

Which rends the veil in dread surprise!
O then, for hope of Heaven's salvation,
Thou, who my being didst allot,
Look on this form of Thy creation,

And, KING OF KINGS" Forget me not."

SONG.

THE wretch who toils beneath the Line,
To catch the diamond's sparkling ray,
May bear that bright gem from the mine,
Which frees him to the upper day:
His head is crowned

With garlands round,

Soft music wakes its melody,

In tears he smiles,

Forgets his toils,

And lives redeemed from slavery.

But me no ray of hope attends,

To light the abyss of dark despair; The jewel which мy fate unbends, Lies hid in deeper darkness there: Nor wealth, nor fame,

Nor gallant name,

My radiant morn of manhood greet;

The slave of Love,

Love's slave I rove,

Or sigh enchained at Beauty's feet.

STANZAS.

WHEN absent from thee, all is lonely,
And happiness is lost in pain;
Or, if it cheers my heart, 'tis only
The hope of meeting thee again :
The balmy grove, the bubbling fountain,
The bright parterre, with Flora gay,
The lilied vale, the laurelled mountain,
Lose every charm if thou'rt away.

But when, beneath the lamps of Heaven, I meet thee in Love's thrilling power, To night's dark scenery is given

The charm of morning's rosy hour; And when the silver Queen of even, Tells parting in the western skies, "Good night"-is like from Eden driven, And Eve, too, lost with Paradise.