 | Voices from the Lakes, and Other Poems |  |
III.
Hidden within its leaves, he had passed byThis modest little flower, so very fair,
And had not seen its gold and azure eye,
Nor knew it grew in tender beauty there,
Till there came whispering thro' its slender leaves
A voice so low, 'twas tho' a zephyr sighed,—
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“Forget-me-not! forget-me-not!” it cried.
Hence has this flower its name; and far above
All others it is dear to friendship's heart,
Is consecrated wholly now to love,
A gift till time shall end, when dear ones part,
Who to each other, weeping their sad lot,
Thro' this sweet flower shall say, “Forget-me-not.”
| Voices from the Lakes, and Other Poems | |