Classic Poem

In Switzerland, 'tis said, one day
Went wandering forth two maidens fair;
Louise and Lisbeth named were they,
And Louise held a blossom rare.
" Good hermit, sitting by the way, "
Said Louise, " in your prayers, I pray
Forget me not! "

Across their road burst storm and wind:
I know not what dark presage fell
Upon the fair young traveler's mind;
But so it chanced, as gossips tell,
" Dear friend, " said Louise, with a sigh,
" If I should be the first to die,
Forget me not! "

An avalanche that fell that day
Athwart their path caught Louise, too,
And as it swept her past, they say,
At her friend's feet the flower she threw,
And cried, " Farewell, my Lisbeth, dear;
Oh, keep my flower forever near,
Forget me not! "

Distraught with fear, with futile strife
To join her friend fair Lisbeth tried;
But firm they held her back to life;
" Oh live, ah live, for her who died. "
Then faithfully that flower she wore,
And ever since, this name it bore,
" Forget-me-not . "