TO MARY. I. My Muse hath long with silence dwelt, Nor sing as I have sung. And, sooth, 'tis time, at twenty-seven, II. Yet, Mary, ere I cease to float For aye on Fancy's sea, 66 I'll freight once more my crescent boat," With fairy gifts for thee: And thou, I trust, wilt not despise Such scant and sorry merchandize, Of him, who, in his better day, III. But if my lyre hath now decay'd, 'Tis not from age alone:— Sore havoc with its strings was made, Ere yet my youth was flown: And haply, Mary, thou canst tell Of one who nursed my fancy well, "Till discord fell 'twixt him and me, IV. My heart hath found a resting-place A patient fight ye both have fought, When youthful passion's reign is o'er, V. "Twill be a joy, in after years, That I've beheld thy face; Have seen thee in thy smiles and tears, My friend's fond arms embrace; VI. And though beneath remoter skies Though different cares and sympathies Though brief the computation be Of future hours which ye and we Together shall have past; And feelings, now too deep for tears, Must perish in the wear of VII. years; Yet still, in feeling's late decline, 'Twixt thee and me, 'twixt thine and mine, And though a month hath scantly flown Our souls bereft of thoughts like these, Plymouth, September 1, 1827. "FORGET THEE?" "FORGET thee?"-If to dream by night, and muse on thee by day; If all the worship,deep and wild, a poet's heart can pay, If prayers in absence, breathed for thee to Heaven's protecting power, If winged thoughts that flit to thee-a thousand in an hour, If busy Fancy blending thee with all my future lot,— If this thou call'st" forgetting," thou, indeed shalt be forgot! 66 'Forget thee?"-Bid the forest-birds forget their sweetest tune; "Forget thee?"-Bid the sea forget to swell beneath the moon; Bid the thirsty flowers forget to drink the eve's refreshing dew; Thyself forget thine" own dear land," and its "mountains wild and blue;" Forget each old familiar face, each long remember'd spot; When these things are forgot by thee, then thou shalt be forgot! Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace, still calm and fancy-free : For, God forbid! thy gladsome heart should grow less glad for me; Yet, while that heart is still unwon, oh, bid not mine to rove, But let it nurse its humble faith, and uncomplaining love; Ifthese, preserved for patient years, at last avail me not, Forget me then ;-but ne'er believe that thou can'st be forgot! February 14, 1825. EPITAPH IN WINDSOR CHURCH-YARD. FEBRUARY 20, 1828. BRIGHT, tho' brief, were thy days on earth, Darkly the cloud of sickness came And our weak hearts droop'd, tho' we knew thy name But oh! as we knelt by thy dying bed Sadly we turn from thy resting-place And we raise to Heaven our tearful eyes, And feel thou watchest o'er us, . And shinest like a star from thine own bright skies On the path thou hast trod before us. |