by Eliza Acton
Amidst the first young flow'rs of spring,
Which o'er this still, and lonely spot,
A gleam of grace and beauty fling,
I found a pale "Forget me not!"
Its blossoms had not gain'd the hue
They wear beneath a warmer sky;
That clear, intense, and lovely blue,
Which wins, and charms the wand'ring eye.
Cold winds had swept across its bloom,
And press'd its gentle form to earth;
And chilling tears, and wintry gloom,
Had gather'd round its place of birth.
I will not send so frail a thing,
My herald to a distant spot,
But sunnier hours to thee shall bring
A fair and bright, "Forget me not!"
Last updated January 14, 2019