For works with similar titles, see Remembrance.
REMEMBRANCE.
They think that I've forgot Those long departed hours;That memory's found a blot Within her hidden bowers.
They deem that time has healed The wound so long since made;That lapse of years hath steeled My heart to sorrow's shade.
'The cold world thinks the while, My soul hath lost its smart;That 'neath a careless smile There beats a happy heart.
'T is true my face may wear A dress of sunny glee,My brow may often bear A mild serenity;
My lips may join the laugh, My spirits seem like air,But yet my soul doth quaff Deep—deep remembrance there
Oh! no I've not forgot Those fond hours of gladness;Memory can know no blot, Though tinged with sadness.