FORGET-ME-NOT. 
51 
Till the flowers thy feet surrounding 
Shall be planted every where, 
No shaded stream but what they ’re found in, 
Throughout the summers of each year: 
And in remembrance of our sorrow, 
Many a maid shall seek that spot 
In twilight glooms, — and when the morrow 
Gilds the sweet Forget-me-not— 
Where the river murmurs hollow, 
Lovers ages hence shall follow. 
And where the forest brook runs brawling,— 
Here in sunshine, there in shade,— 
Lovers shall be oft heard calling, 
While they traverse glen and glade : 
As they search each woodland spot, 
Hazeled dell and briery brake, 
For the blue Forget-me-not, 
Which they’ll cherish for our sake— 
And up to Heaven’s high arching hollow, 
Many a sigh our loves shall follow. 
