58
miscellaneous poems.
SONG.
I remember, I remember, though it seems to me a dream,
Or a sunbeam, fleeting o'er the wave, that brighten'd 'neath its beam.
Dost thou ask what I remember? 'twas a smile from one I knew,
And a glance from a blue merry eye, and words that seem'd so true.
Now I press my burning hand, to a brow that throbs with pain,
Whilst mem'ry brings each kindly look and accent back again.
Or a sunbeam, fleeting o'er the wave, that brighten'd 'neath its beam.
Dost thou ask what I remember? 'twas a smile from one I knew,
And a glance from a blue merry eye, and words that seem'd so true.
Now I press my burning hand, to a brow that throbs with pain,
Whilst mem'ry brings each kindly look and accent back again.
I was happy, I was happy then, in gazing on his face—
Nor would I wish that time should e'er, those words and looks efface;
For I feel, when in my weariness I sit and weep alone,
That mem'ry is the only good I now may call my own.
Nor would I wish that time should e'er, those words and looks efface;
For I feel, when in my weariness I sit and weep alone,
That mem'ry is the only good I now may call my own.
