You will forget me:--will thank me for saying
The words which you think are so pointed with pain,
Time loves a new lay; and the dirge he is playing
Will change for you soon to a livelier strain.
I shall pass from your life, I shall pass out forever,
And the hours we have spent, will be sunk in the past.
Youth buries its dead: grief kills seldom, or never,
And forgetfulness covers all sorrows at last.
You will forget me; the one thing you covet
Now, above all things will soon seem no prize:
And the heart which is not in your keeping, to prove it
True or untrue, will lose worth in your eyes.
The one drop to-day, which you deem only wanting
To make life a joy, will be lost in Time's stream;
You will forget; and the ghost that is haunting
The aisles of your heart will pass out with the dream.