FORGE, T-ME-NO T. 
The stream that cleaves the mountain’s side, 
Or gurgles from the grot,— 
All speak in their Creator’s name, 
And say “ Forget me not!” 
When man’s vain heart is swollen with pride, 
And his haughty lip is curled, 
And from the scorner’s seat he smiles 
Contempt upon the world; 
Where glitter crowns and coronets, 
Like stars that gem the skies, 
And Flattery’s incense rises thick 
To blind a monarch’s eyes ; 
Where the courtier’s tongue with facile lie 
A royal ear beguiles; 
Where suitors live on promises, 
And sycophants on smiles; 
Where each as in a theatre 
Is made to play his part, 
Where the diadem hides a troubled brow, 
And the star an aching heart; 
There, even ’mid pomp and power, 
Is oft a voice that calls 
“ Forget me not,” in thunder, 
Throughout the palace walls. 
Or in the house of banqueting, 
Where the maddening bowl is flush, 
And the shameless ribald boast of deeds 
For which the cheek should blush ; 
Where from the oft-drained goblet’s brim 
The eye of mirth is lit; 
Where the cold conceits of a trifler’s brain 
Pass for the coin of wit • 
