New Hampshire Statesman

The Heart's Motto—"Forget me not."

BY BERNARD BARTON.

Appealing language! unto me
How much thy words impart:
They seem as if design'd to be
The Motto of the Heart:
Whose fondest feelings, still the same,
Whatever in earthly lot,
Prefer alike this touching claim,
And say—"Forget me not."

The soldier, who for glory dies,
However bright may seem
The fame he wins in others' eyes,
Would own that fame a dream,
Did he not hope a better part
Would keep him unforgot.
The chosen motto of his heart
Is still—"Forget me not."

The sailor, tost on stormy seas,
Still hears a voice in every breeze
Though far his bark may roam,
He thinks upon his distant friends,
That wakens thoughts of home.
His wife, his humble cot:
And from his inmost heart ascends
The prayer—"Forget me not!"

The sculptor, painter, while they trace
On canvas or in stone,
Another's figure, form or face,
Each thus would like to leave behind
Our motto's spirit ow'd;
His semblance—and for what?
A tho't which fills his mind
Is this—"Forget me not!"

The poet too, who, borne along
In thought to distant time,
Pours forth his inmost soul in song.
Holds fast his hope sublime!
He would a glorious name bequeath,
And round that name his tho'ts enwreath
Oblivion shall not blot,
The words—"Forget me not!"

Our motto is, in truth, the voice
Of nature in the heart;
For who from mortal life, by choice,
Forgotten would depart?
Nor is the wish by grace abhorr'd
Or counted as a spot:
Even the language of the Lord
Is still—"Forget me not!"

Within the heart his spirit speaks
The words of truth divine,
And by its heavenly teaching seeks
To make that heart his shrine.
This is the "still small voice," which all
In city or in grot,
May hear and live—its gentle call
Is—"Man, forget me not!"

From the London New Monthly Magazine.