Thy thoughts are Heavenward! and thy heart, they say,
Which love, oh more than mortal, failed to move,
Now in its precious casket melts away,
And owns the impress of a Saviour's love!

Many, in days gone by, full many a prayer,
Pure, though impassion'd, has been breathed for thee
By one who once thy hallow'd name would dare
Prefer with his to the Divinity.

Requite them now — not with an earthly love —
But since with that his lot thou mayst not bless,
Ask — what he dare not pray for from above —
For him the mercy of Forgetfulness.