Oh, no! we never mention him, his name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to speak that once familiar word:
From sport to sport they hurry me, to banish my regret;
And when they win a smile from me, they think that I forget.
They bid me seek in change of scene the charms that others see;
But were I in a foreign land, they'd find no change in me.
'Tis true that I behold no more the valley where we met,
I do not see the hawthorn-tree; but how can I forget?
For oh! there are so many things recall the past to me--
The breeze upon the sunny hills, the billows of the sea;
The rosy tint that decks the sky before the sun is set;--
Ay, every leaf I look upon forbids me to forget.
They tell me he is happy now, the gayest of the gay;
They hint that he forgets me too,--but I heed not what they say:
Perhaps like me he struggles with each feeling of regret;
But if he loves as I have loved, he never can forget.
--_Thomas Haynes Bayley, 1797-1839._
1188
Is it possible a man can be so changed by love that one would not know
him for the same person?
1189
Girls we love for what they are; young men for what they promise to be.
--_Goethe._
1190
Love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
1191
Caresses, expressions of one sort or another, are necessary to the life
of the affections, as leaves are to the life of a tree. If they are
wholly restrained, love will die at the roots.
--_Hawthorne._
1192