FOR GE T-ME-NO T. 
121 
“Forget me not!” the thunder roars, 
As it bursts its sulphury cloud; 
Tis murmured by the distant hills 
In echoes long and loud; 
’Tis written by the Almighty’s hand 
In characters of flame, 
When the lightnings gleam with vivid flash, 
And His wrath and power proclaim. 
’Tis murmured when the white wave falls 
Upon the wreck-strewn shore, 
As a hoary warrior bows his crest 
When his day of work is o’er. 
Go ! speed thee forth when the beamy sun 
O’erthrows the reign of night, 
And strips the scene of its misty robe, 
And arrays it in diamonds bright. 
Oh ! as thou drinkest health and joy 
In the fresh and balmy air, 
“ Forget me not,” in a still small voice 
Will surely greet thee there. 
Oh ! who that sees the vermeil cheek 
Grow day by day more pale, 
And Beauty’s form to shrink before 
The summer’s gentlest gale, 
But thinks of Him, the mighty One, 
By whom the blow is given, 
As if the fairest flowers of earth 
W ere early plucked for heaven. 
Oh ! yes, on every side we see 
The impress of His hand ; 
The air we breathe is full of Him, 
And the earth on which we stand. 
