To ----

A poem by Frances Anne Kemble

When the glad sun looks smiling from the sky,
Upon each shadowy glen and woody height,
And that you tread those well known paths where I
Have stray'd 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 joyous 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.

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