Remember
When shuts the rose, when the long gloaming dies
And stars come out, and, under spectral skies,
The great elms nod and murmur, should there be,
Perchance, in thy sweet thoughts, one thought of me,
Say to thy listening heart,—‘He was my friend:
He lov'd me, and was faithful to the end.’
And stars come out, and, under spectral skies,
The great elms nod and murmur, should there be,
Perchance, in thy sweet thoughts, one thought of me,
Say to thy listening heart,—‘He was my friend:
He lov'd me, and was faithful to the end.’
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