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For ge t-me-no t. 
But I remember hours of quiet gladness, 
When if the heart had truth, it spoke it then. 
When thoughts would sometimes take a tone of sadness, 
And then unconsciously grow glad again. 
Can you forget them ? 
**«**# 
“ There is no truth in love, whate’er its seeming, 
And heaven itself could scarcely seem more tme ; 
Sadly have I awakened from the dreaming, 
Whose charmed slumber, false one, was of you. 
I gave mine inmost being to thy keeping, 
I had no thought I did not seek to share ; 
Feelings that hushed within my soul were sleeping, 
Waked into voice to trust them to thy care. 
Can you forget them ? 
‘ ! Can you forget me ? This is vainly tasking 
The faithless heart where I, alas ! am not. 
Too well I know the idleness of asking— 
The misery—of why I am forgot! 
The happy hours that I have pass’d while kneeling, 
Half-slave, half-child, to gaze upon thy face— 
But what to thee this passionate appealing ? 
Let my heart break—it is a common case. 
You have forgotten me !*” 
