FORGET ME NOT. 
Blossoms more rich and rare than thou 
May twine round Beauty’s graceful brow 
In moods of sunny mirth ; 
The Rose’s or the Myrtle’s flower 
Might more beseem her festive hour, 
And give, in Pleasure’s careless bower. 
To brighter fancies birth. 
But in those moments, sad, yet dear. 
When parting wakes Affection’s tear, 
Thy stainless blossom’s braid. 
Whose -SAMF. forbids us to forget. 
Would be the chosen coronet 
Love on the loveliest brow would set 
To crave fond Memory’s aid. 
When « eartlv to earth,” and dust to dust,” 
The lov’d, lamented, we entrust. 
What flower may grace the spot 
Where sleep the reliques of the dead, 
39 
