Page:Forget Me Not 1844.pdf/2



How much there is of the heart's eloquence In but a simple Flower!—Oh, Flowers were made For Love's interpreters!— L. E. L.

She flung her on his breast, And she wept those bitter tears When the present is all grief, And the future is all fears.

And the knight's dark eye was fill'd   With the tears he strove to quell, Albeit too proud to show How much he felt farewell.

There were flowers in her hair Like an April diadem; There were azure violets, But she took not one of them.

There too was the red rose, Queen of the scented hour; But from out the sunny wreath She took a small blue flower.

"Be this," she sighed, "through all   The chance that waits my lot Our love's remembering sign—    Keep this FORGET ME NOT."

He kiss'd the flower he took From the Maiden's snow-white hand: One last low-breathed farewell, And the boat has left the strand.