Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1838.pdf/68



you forget me?—I who have so cherished The veriest trifle that was memory's link; The roses that you gave me, although perished, Were precious in my sight; they made me think, You took them in their scentless beauty stooping From the warm shelter of the garden wall; Autumn, while into languid winter drooping, Gave its last blossoms, opening but to fall. Can you forget them?

Can you forget me? I am not relying On plighted vows—alas! I know their worth. Man’s faith to woman is a trifle, dying Upon the very breath that gave it birth. But I remember hours of quiet gladness, When, if the heart had truth, it spoke it then, When thoughts would sometimes take a tone of sadness, And then unconsciously grow glad again. Can you forget them?

Can you forget me? My whole soul was blended At least it sought to blend itself with thine; My life’s whole purpose, winning thee, seemed ended; Thou wert my heart’s sweet home—my spirit’s shrine. Can you forget me?—when the firelight burning, Flung sudden gleams around the quiet room, How would thy words, to long past moments turning, Trust me with thoughts soft as the shadowy gloom! Can you forget them?

There is no truth in love whate’er its seeming, And heaven itself could scarcely seem more true— Sadly have I awakened from the dreaming, Whose charmed slumber—false one!—was of you. I gave mine inmost being to thy keeping— I had no thought I did not seek to share; Feelings that hushed within my soul were sleeping, Waked into voice, to trust them to thy care. Can you forget them?