When the glad sun looks smiling from the sky,
Upon each shadowy glen, and sunny height,
And that you tread those well-known paths, where I
Have strayed with you, do not forget me quite.
When the warm hearth throws its bright glow around,
On many a smiling cheek, and glance of light,
And the gay laugh wakes with its silver sound
The soul of mirth—do not forget me quite.
You will not miss me: for with you remain
Hearts fond and warm, and spirits young and bright;
’Tis but one word—'farewell,' and all again
Will seem the same, yet don’t forget me quite.
To———. ‘Oh! turn those eyes away from me!’
Oh! turn those eyes away from me!
Though sweet, yet fearful are their rays;
And though they beam so tenderly,
I feel, I tremble 'neath their gaze.
Oh, turn those eyes away! for though
To meet their glance I may not dare,
I know their light is on my brow,
By the warm blood that mantles there.