Page:Felicia Hemans in The Juvenile Keepsake 1829.pdf/2



, sweet friends! yet think of me   When spring's low voice awakes the flowers, For we have wandered far and free In those bright hours—the violet's hours!

I go—but when you pause to hear From distant hills the sabbath-bell On summer's wind float silvery clear, Think of me then—I loved it well!

Forget me not around your hearth When clearly shines the ruddy blaze; For dear hath been its hour of mirth To me, sweet friends! in other days.

And oh! when music's voice is heard To melt in strains of parting woe, When hearts to tender thought are stirr'd,    Think of me then!—I go, I go!