FORGET ME NOT. 



BLOSSOMS more rich and rare than thou 

 May twine round Beauty's graceful brow 



In moods of sunny mirth ; 

 The Rose's or the Myrtle's flower 

 Might more beseem her festive hour, 

 And give, in Pleasure's careless bower, 



To brighter fancies birth. 



But in those moments, sad, yet dear, 

 When parting wakes Affection's tear, 



Thy stainless blossom's braid, 

 Whose tuaat forbid* us to forget, 

 Would be the chosen coronet 

 Love on the loveliest brow would set 



To crave fond Memory's aid. 



When " earth to earth," and " dust to dust," 

 The lov'd, lamented, we entrust, 



What flower may grace the spot 

 Where sleep the reliques of the dead, * 



39 



