Clara de Grey's Song

Forget me not, should mirth allow thee leisure

To think on me, while cares my heart destroy;

Forget me not, should sorrow damp thy pleasure,

And rouse thy troubled soul from golden dreams of joy;

And should thy love of change prefer unthinking folly

To faith that ne'er deceived, and pleasing melancholy,

My eye shall speak in tears, that trickle for thy lot,

Forget me not.

Forget me not, though heedless of my anguish,

Fortune should tear thee from my faithful arms,

While months and years condemned in vain to languish,

My tongue repeats thy name, my mind revolves thy charms;

Ah, consecrate to me some little fleeting hour,

For time and distance yield to friendship's magic power;

My heart will cry to thine, whate'er may be my lot,

Forget me not.

Forget me not, though dull cold earth should cover

This heart which beat so constantly for thee:

The spotless soul around thee then shall hover,

Though weak, and erring now, yet then from error free,

Think then 'tis I whene'er a ray of hope revealing

A spirit to thy soul inspires a tender feeling;

'Tis I who whisper still, still anxious for thy lot,

Forget me not.