Forget-Me-Not Poems

Table of Contents

1. Forget Me Not

   by Ruby Archer

   
   

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   High on the rocks and eternal snows
   A delicate, wee blue blossom grows.
   Far from all human care and love,
   It lifts its face to the skies above
   And prays, while fiercely the cold wind blows,
   "O God, forget me not!"
   

   The flower is blue from its love of the sky,
   As a soul is merged in a worship high,
   And its tiny heart is the sun's own gold.
   Hear it breathe its plea to the tempest bold
   And the shrieking eagles that o'er it fly,
   The sweet forget-me-not.
   

   A beating heart o'er the flower goes,
   And lo! the life-blood more quickly flows;
   A sudden yearning fills it with pain,
   'Till it beats in tune to a low refrain
   That every passionate being knows,—
   "O Love, forget me not!"
   

   Strange, how our spirits remembrance crave,
   And long the wraith of a life to save—
   A guide to the days that are no more,
   Where only regret may wander o'er.
   Yea, even the buried would have his grave
   Inscribed "Forget me not."
   

2. The Forget-Me-Not

   by Emma Stapley

   
   

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   For years within a secluded spot
   Have I treasured a sprig of Forget-me-not.
   It has a story, this blossom blue,
   Oh, yes! with pleasure I'll tell it to you.
   

   'Twas sent me in girlhood's sunny day—
   Many years since have passed away—
   By one who is more than life to me,
   Whose love is deep as the fathomless sea,
   And whose pathway in life is by my side.
   'Twas before I became his cherished bride.
   

   While languishing on a bed of pain,
   From which he might never rise again,
   He sent me this flower of azure hue,
   In token of love, strong deep and true,
   Thinking that it, perhaps, might be
   His last fond gift on earth to me.
   

   But, thanks to Him whose loving care,
   Saw fit my darling's life to spare,
   In His love and each other's we're truly blest,
   As we journey toward the land of rest.
   

   So the emblem I've cherished for many years—
   Years of joy and sorrow, hopes and fears;
   Yet, in glancing backward o'er the past.
   Nearly all seems sunshine—but few clouds cast
   Over my mem'ry a sombre hue,
   Because my love was always true.
   

3. A Forget-Me-Not

   by Robert J. Kerr

   
   

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   A forget-me-not only,
   Lying all lonely,
   And withered as if through woe
   For a vanished vision,
   And a scene elysian,
   And a day gone long ago.
   

   It carries me back
   O'er the swift years' track
   To a far-off golden hour,
   When a dear fair hand,
   In a summer land,
   First held it—the now dead flower.
   

   And the music streams
   Again in my dreams,
   And the grace of girlhood is there;
   And hopes that are fled
   With the far days dead
   Shine out like the shine of her hair.
   

   A forget-me-not only!
   Lying all lonely,
   And o'er it the Dreams bend low;
   And the music sighs,
   And rises, and dies
   In a garden of long ago.
   

4. Forget Me Not

   by P. Cudmore

   Pleasanter the time is fleeting,
   When dearest friends are meeting;
   Alas! the sadnesss of the mind,
   When loving friends we leave behind;
   For to mingle with the stranger,
   Braving fortune, toil, and danger;
   But whatever may be our lot,
   My dearest friend, forget me not.
   

5. The Forget-Me-Not

   by Appleton Oaksmith

   
   

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   I walked adown the garden walk
   To bid my love good-bye,
   And as I passed the rose's stalk,
   What should my eyes espy
   But, nestled like a brooding dove
   In some sequestered spot,
   The very thing I told my love—
   A dear "Forget-me-not!"
   

   I stooped and plucked the little flower;
   He said, "What do you seek?"
   I answered, "In the twilight hour
   Let this, love, for me speak?"
   I twined it softly in his breast,
   His arms were round me furled,
   And as I leaned upon his breast
   He said I was "his world."
   

   His sword was girt upon his thigh,
   His plume waved in the breeze,
   And all the twilight seemed to sigh
   Among the garden trees!
   I looked into his eyes and felt
   As happy as maidens feel,
   When first two loving spirits melt
   In one, for woe or weal.
   

   He drew me closer to his heart,
   My hand was on his breast;
   He said, "My love! though now we part,
   This heart can never rest
   Until I bring you back your flower,
   And claim, where now we stand,
   In some sweet future twilight hour,
   This darling little hand."
   

   These were the words I heard him say—
   The last I ever heard!
   I saw him slowly ride away,
   While not a step I stirred.
   I could not move—I saw him turn
   And kiss his hand to me,
   Ah! how my spirit then did yearn
   For what would never be.
   

   This little casket that I wear
   The rest can better tell—
   A withered flower—a lock of hair,
   A blood-stained word, "Farewell!"
   They buried him upon the field,
   Upon the battle-plain,
   And life to me can never yield
   A comfort to my pain.
   

   I often, at the twilight hour,
   Steal down the garden walk,
   Where once I plucked the little flower
   Beneath the rose's stalk;
   And when I reach the wicker gate.
   And no one else is nigh,
   I almost think I see him wait,
   As then, to say "Good-bye."
   

   And sometimes, when the shadows creep
   Along the garden-wall,
   I hear a voice which makes me weep
   Out of the darkness call;
   It seems to say, as still I stand
   Upon the same old spot,
   "I'm waiting for that little hand,
   My dear—Forget-me-not!"
   

6. The Forget-Me-Not

   by William Topaz McGonagall

   
   

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   A gallant knight and his betroth'd bride,
   Were walking one day by a river side,
   They talk'd of love, and they talk'd of war,
   And how very foolish lovers are.
   

   At length the bride to the knight did say,
   'There have been many young ladies led astray
   By believing in all their lovers said,
   And you are false to me I am afraid.'
   

   'No, Ellen, I was never false to thee,
   I never gave thee cause to doubt me;
   I have always lov'd thee and do still,
   And no other woman your place shall fill.'
   

   'Dear Edwin, it may be true, but I am in doubt,
   But there's some beautiful flowers here about,
   Growing on the other side of the river,
   But how to get one, I cannot discover.'
   

   'Dear Ellen, they seem beautiful indeed,
   But of them, dear, take no heed;
   Because they are on the other side,
   Besides, the river is deep and wide.'
   

   'Dear Edwin, as I doubt your love to be untrue,
   I ask one favour now from you:
   Go! fetch me a flower from across the river,
   Which will prove you love me more than ever.'
   

   'Dear Ellen! I will try and fetch you a flower
   If it lies within my power
   To prove that I am true to you,
   And what more can your Edwin do?'
   

   So he leap'd into the river wide,
   And swam across to the other side,
   To fetch a flower for his young bride,
   Who watched him eagerly on the other side.
   

   So he pluck'd a flower right merrily
   Which seemed to fill his heart with glee,
   That it would please his lovely bride;
   But, alas! he never got to the other side.
   

   For when he tried to swim across,
   All power of his body he did loss,
   But before he sank in the river wide,
   He flung the flowers to his lovely bride.
   

   And he cried, 'Oh, heaven! hard is my lot,
   My dearest Ellen! Forget me not:
   For I was ever true to you,
   My dearest Ellen! I bid thee adieu!'
   

   Then she wrung her hands in wild despair,
   Until her cries did rend the air;
   And she cried, 'Edwin, dear, hard is out lot,
   But I'll name this flower Forget-me-not.
   

   'And I'll remember thee while I live,
   And to no other man my hand I'll give,
   And I will place my affection on this little flower,
   And it will solace me in a lonely hour.
   

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