Classic Poem

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.