THOU WILT THINK OF ME, LOVE.

When these eyes, long dimmed with weeping,

In the silent dust are sleeping;

When above my narrow bed

The breeze shall wave the thistle's head —

Thou wilt think of me, love!

When the queen of beams and showers

Comes to dress the earth with flowers;

When the days are long and bright,

And the moon shines all the night —

Thou wilt think of me, love!

When the tender corn is springing,

And the merry thrush is singing;

When the swallows come and go,

On light wings flitting to and fro —

Thou wilt think of me, love!

When laughing childhood learns by rote

The cuckoo's oft-repeated note;

When the meads are fresh and green,

And the hawthorn buds are seen —

Thou wilt think of me, love!

When‘ neath April's rainbow skies

Violets ope their purple eyes;

When mossy bank and verdant mound

Sweet knots of primroses have crowned —

Thou wilt think of me, love!

When the meadows glitter white,

Like a sheet of silver light;

When blue bells gay and cowslips bloom,

Sweet-scented brier, and golden broom —

Thou wilt think of me, love!

Each bud shall be to thee a token

Of a fond heart reft and broken;

And the month of joy and gladness

Shall but fill thy soul with sadness —

And thou wilt sigh for me, love!

When thou rov'st the woodland bowers,

Thou shalt cull spring's sweetest flowers,

And shalt strew with bitter weeping

The lonely bed where I am sleeping —

And sadly mourn for me, love!