Oh no we never mention her; Her name is never heard; My lips are now forbid to speak That once familiar word: From sport to sport they hurry me To banish my regret, And they win a smile from me They think that I forget.
They bid me seek in change of scene, The charms that others see; But were I in a foreign land, They'd find no change in me: Tis true that I behold no more, the valley where we met, I do not see the hawthorne tree, But how can I forget?
For Oh! There are so many things Recall the past to me, The breeze upon the sunny hills The billows of the sea The rosy tint that decks the sky, Before the sun is set, Aye every leaf I look upon, Forbids me to forget!
They tell me she is happy now, The gayest of the gay; They hint that she forgets me, But heed not what they say; Like me perhaps she struggles, With each feeling of regret, But if she loves, as I have loved, She never can forget. T. H. Bayly