TO ——, AT PARTING.

———

BY CAROLINE A. BRIGGS.

———

Thou sayest thou wilt ne’er forget;

That I shall ever be

A green spot on Life’s desert waste,

A star of love to thee—

A ray to cheer and warm—and yet,

Believe it not; thou wilt forget!

A few short years perchance thou’lt keep

My mem’ry fresh and green,

Recalling e’en each look of mine,

Without a mist between—

And think ’twill aye be so—and yet,

Believe it not; thou wilt forget!

I’ve met with friends who’ve vowed to me,

To love through good and ill;

To cherish me till life’s great pulse

Within their hearts grew still—

Forgetting me, oh, ne’er!—and yet,

Alas! Alas! they did forget.

My name to them is now like some

Dim mem’ry of a song

They used to love to listen to—

But that was long since—long—

’Tis charmless now—and yet, and yet,

They said they never would forget.

A little time, and thou wilt write

My name all names above,

And then, perchance, thou too wilt find

Some dearer one to love—

Some fairer one whom thou hast met,

And I, alas! thou WILT forget!

Believe it not that I shall live

Within thy heart for aye;

Recall this weary parting hour,

Some future, distant day—

And thou wilt start to find that yet.

With all thy care, thou DID’ST forget!