105 
Pansy, or Heartsease. — ‘ Think of me still .' 
What heart does not cling to the hope of being remembered by 
those it has cherished, when the curtain of death has for a time 
separated the objects once so closely united! 
Think of me still, when life is o’er — 
Its fitful fever ended; 
And thou the form shall see no more 
Which once so fondly tended, 
To wake thy smiles of tranquil mirth, 
And shed a halo round thy hearth. 
Think of me still! I could not bear 
That thou should’st cease to love 
My memory, when no more I share 
The pangs ’tis thine to prove, 
