четвер, 6 лютого 2020 р.

A Place in Thy Memory by Gerald Griffin (1803–40)

A PLACE in thy memory, Dearest!
  Is all that I claim:
To pause and look back when thou hearest
  The sound of my name.
Another may woo thee, nearer;        
  Another may win and wear;
I care not though he be dearer,
  If I am remember’d there.

Remember me, not as a lover
  Whose hope was cross’d,        
Whose bosom can never recover
  The light it hath lost!
As the young bride remembers the mother
  She loves, though she never may see,
As a sister remembers a brother,        
  O Dearest, remember me!

Could I be thy true lover, Dearest!
  Couldst thou smile on me,
I would be the fondest and dearest
  That ever lov’d thee:        
But a cloud on my pathway is glooming
  That never must burst upon thine;
And heaven, that made thee all blooming,
  Ne’er made thee to wither on mine.

Remember me then! O remember        
  My calm light love,
Though bleak as the blasts of November
  My life may prove!
That life will, though lonely, be sweet
  If its brightest enjoyment should be