Unforget

I miss them all, for, unforgetting, My spirit o'er the past still strays, And, much its wasted years regretting, It treads again these shaded ways.

My sorrows seem but small and brief,— Soon softened into vague regretting; I find a balm in every leaf, Build ships on every wreck-strewn reef, Then blush before this marble Grief, Still unforgetting!

Hither, when soft the autumn sun is setting, The duteous mourner shall repair alone; With pangs subdued, perchance, but unforgetting The pure, sweet virtues of the dear one gone: […]

Then from that anguished soul, distraught, a cry! "Earth's breaking hearts are countless as her days, And He who strung the vibrant chords forgets, Or, unforgetting, slays."

One Scripture rule, at least, was unforgot; He hid the outcast, and bewrayed him not; […]

He first talked lightly, as at any hour A father might—in broken sentences— Of matters of to-day, and unforgot From all the yesterdays; […]

How sweet is friendship's sacred lot, Where sordid feelings harbor not. To feel that we are unforgot By those we deeply love.

She too was unforgetting: has she yet Forgotten that long agony when her breath Too fierce for living fanned the flame of death?