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TRUE LOVE. 
FORGET-ME-NOT. 
Viola cucula. 
Language — TRUE LOVE. 
Tell me, my heart, what love is : 
It giveth but to rob — 
Two souls and one idea, 
Two hearts and but one throb. 
And tell me how love cometh: 
It comes — and ah, ’tis here. 
And whither, pray, it fleeth : 
’Twas not—’twas fancy mere. 
And when is love the purest ? 
When its own self it shuns. 
And when is love the deepest ? 
When love the stillest runs. 
And when is love the richest ? 
It hoardeth when it gives. 
And tell me how love speaketh : 
It speaketh not — it lives. , 
Whither my heart is gone, there follows my hand, and 
not elsewhere. 
For where the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumes 
the pathway, 
Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in 
darkness. 
Longfellow's Evangeline. 
