Classic Poem

Think gently of me, if the day should come
When thou (ah God, the sorrow!) hast to go.
Think gently of me when the blossoms blow:
Think gently of me when the lilac-bloom
Covers Spring's brow with many a purple plume:
Think gently of me when the wintry snow
Whitens the streets, and when the red flames glow
On the bright hearth at Christmas, in thine home.

Think gently of me, if the day should dawn
When thou must (God, the sorrow!) pass from sight:
Think how thy passing makes the whole world night:
I shall be very tired, when thou art gone.
Think gently,—even tenderly,—of me:
Far my life's best deed was my love of thee.