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THE COMPLAINT OF THE FORGET-ME-NOT,
SHOWING THE PAINS AND PENALTIES OF POPULARITY.
The blue-eyed Forget-me-not, beautiful flower,
Half-wooed and half-stolen, I brought from her bower,
By the bright river's brink, where she nestled so low,
That the water o'er stem and o'er leaflet might flow;
As if, like Narcissus, she foolishly tried
To gaze on her own gentle face in the tide.
Half inclined, half reluctant, the flower bade adieu
To the friends left behind in the dell where she grew;[1]
And a few shining drops, from the river-spray flung,
Like tears of regret on her azure eyes hung;
But I kissed them away, as a lover had done,
"In joy that my fair river-beauty I'd won.
And then swiftly I hied to my lone desk away,
Lest my flower should droop, grow dim, and decay;
For methought I once more would pourtray the soft hue
Of that smooth vivid green, and that delicate blue;
And while o'er the semblance I silently bent,
My fair sitter sighed forth this touching lament.
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The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet,
And it seemed, to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret,
On the flourishing bush where it grew.Cowper.
