194 
THE LOVER S OPPERING, 
according to its own peculiar form, or fragrance, or 
colour, lie added, “ Be ye mindful of the name by 
which the Image of your Creator hath called you.” 
And it was yet but a short time afterw ards that a 
floweret, arrayed in the meek azure of the firma¬ 
ment, spake unto Adam, saying, “ Lord!—by what 
name didst thou call me 'i Of a truth it ashameth 
me that I did not heed it.” And the first man 
answered, saying, “Forget-me-not!” Then the 
floweret drooped its head and went and hid it¬ 
self in the lonely shade, beneath the bough that wa- 
veth over the murmuring brook, and there it abi- 
deth mourning, and when the gentle hand of Friend¬ 
ship, or the eager finger of Love stoopeth to pluck 
it in its lowliness, it still doth whisper softly,— 
“ Forget-me-not!” 
FORGET-ME-NOT. 
Fond memory’s flower of azure dye, 
Permit thy bard one boon to crave; 
When in death’s narrow bed I lie, 
Oh! bloom around my humble grave. 
And if some tender, faithful friend 
Should, led by love, approach the spot, 
And o’er thy flowers admiring bend, 
Then say for me, “ Forget-me-not.’ 
Mrs. Opie. 
