Thou Wilt Think Of Me, Love.

When these eyes, long dimmed with weeping,     In the silent dust are sleeping;     When above my narrow bed     The breeze shall wave the thistle's head--                         Thou wilt think of me, love!     When the queen of beams and showers     Comes to dress the earth with flowers;     When the days are long and bright,     And the moon shines all the night--                         Thou wilt think of me, love!     When the tender corn is springing,     And the merry thrush is singing;     When the swallows come and go,     On light wings flitting to and fro--                         Thou wilt think of me, love!     When laughing childhood learns by rote     The cuckoo's oft-repeated note;     When the meads are fresh and green,     And the hawthorn buds are seen--                         Thou wilt think of me, love!     When 'neath April's rainbow skies     Violets ope their purple eyes;     When mossy bank and verdant mound     Sweet knots of primroses have crowned--                         Thou wilt think of me, love!     When the meadows glitter white,     Like a sheet of silver light;     When blue bells gay and cowslips bloom,     Sweet-scented brier, and golden broom--                         Thou wilt think of me, love!     Each bud shall be to thee a token     Of a fond heart reft and broken;     And the month of joy and gladness     Shall but fill thy soul with sadness--                         And thou wilt sigh for me, love!     When thou rov'st the woodland bowers,     Thou shalt cull spring's sweetest flowers,     And shalt strew with bitter weeping     The lonely bed where I am sleeping--                         And sadly mourn for me, love!