Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Farewell! Forget me not

Farewell! Forget Me Not.

I see the white sails of thy ship,
The blue depths of the sea;
I hear the wind sweep o'er the wave
That bears thee, love, from me.
Thy flag shines in the crimson sun,
Now setting in the brine,
That sun will set to-morrow there,
But light no sail of thine!
Yet, with to-morrow's evening star,
Again I'll seek this spot;
'Twas here I gave my parting charge,
My last—Forget me not!

Around my neck there is a band,
'Tis made of thy dark hair;
Its links guard my heart's dear prize,
A broken ring they bear.
A like pledge hangs upon thy breast,
The last sweet gift love gave;
We broke that ring, we twined that hail,
Upon a maiden's grave!
A girl who died of broken vows—
(How can love be forgot?)
A fitting shrine for faithful hearts
To light—Forget me not!

How can I bear to think on all
The dangers thou must brave P
My fears will deem each gale a storm,
While thou art on the wave.
How my young heart will cling to all
That breathes of thine or thee!
How I will plant thy favourite flowers,
And nurse thy favourite tree!
And thou, oh thou! be shade or shine,
Or storm or calm thy lot,
Bear on thy heart our parting words—
Our fond—Forget me not!

Nay, pray thee, mother, let me gaze
Upon that distant sail;
What matters that my eye is dim,
Or that my cheek is pale?
And tell me not 'tis vain to weep
For him who is away;
That sighs nor tears will speed the flight
Of but a single day;
It is not that I hope to bring
My sailor to our cot,
But who can say, and yet not weep—
Farewell!—Forget me not!