II. Forget-Me-Not.
Reading edition
Vergeet-mij-nietje, III, blz. 121.
Blue, pretty flower! forget me not! When e’er to meet thee, ’t is my lot, On this sweet spot; Why dare I not, as thou, at parting, Exclaim without my conscience smarting: “Forget me not!”
Oh, simple, lovely flow’ret blue, The reason I alas! must rue, I’ll tell it you..... I oft must sigh with shame and sorrow, On many a self-reproaching morrow: “Forget me, do!”
Blue, tender flower! forget me not! I promise thee, when ’t is my lot, On this sweet spot, To meet thee—at my second parting,— T’exclaim, without my conscience smarting: “Forget me not!”