FORGET-ME-NOT. 
BERNARD BARTON. 
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 these moments sad, yet dear. 
When parting wakes affection’s tear. 
Thy stainless blossoms’ braid. 
Whose name forbids 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, 
For whom the frequent tear is shed. 
Like thine—which, from the grave’s cold bed, 
Repeats “ Forget me not! ” 
