Found in My Emporium of Love-Tokens

Sweet flower, that with thy soft blue eye
Didst once look up in shady spot,
To whisper to the passer-by
Those tender words—Forget-me-not!

Though withered now, thou art to me
The minister of gentle thought,—
And I could weep to gaze on thee,.
Love’s faded pledge—Forget-me-not!

Thou speak’st of hours when I was young,
And happiness arose unsought;
When she, the whispering woods among,
Gave me thy bloom—Forget-me-not!

That rapturous hour with that dear maid
From memory’s page no time shall blot,
When, yielding to my kiss, she said,
“Oh, Theodore—Forget me not!”

Alas for love! alas for truth!
Alas for man’s uncertain lot!
Alas for all the hopes of youth
That fade like thee—Forget-me-not!

Alas for that one image fair,
With all my brightest dreams inwrought!
That walks beside me everywhere,
Still whispering—Forget me not!

Oh, Memory! thou art but a sigh
For friendships dead and loves forgot,
And many a cold and altered eye
That once did say—Forget me not!

And I must bow me to thy laws,
For—odd although it may be thought—
I can’t tell who the deuce it was
That gave me this Forget-me-not!