Poems (Eliza Gabriella Lewis)/Song (I remember, I remember, though it seems to me a dream)

by Eliza Gabriella Lewis

For works with similar titles, see Song.

SONG.

I remember, I remember, though it seems to me a dream,
Or a sunbeam, fleeting o'er the wave, that brighten'd 'neath its beam.
Dost thou ask what I remember? 'twas a smile from one I knew,
And a glance from a blue merry eye, and words that seem'd so true.
Now I press my burning hand, to a brow that throbs with pain,
Whilst mem'ry brings each kindly look and accent back again.

I was happy, I was happy then, in gazing on his face—
Nor would I wish that time should e'er, those words and looks efface;
For I feel, when in my weariness I sit and weep alone,
That mem'ry is the only good I now may call my own.

I remember, I remember, like sweet music soft and low,
A voice that made my pulses thrill, and bade my pale cheek glow;
And the words, the words then uttered (oh! could they be but art?)
When death hath summon'd me away, thou'lt find upon mine heart
We parted, yes, we parted, like a rudely wrenched chain,
As if each broken link and clasp could ne'er unite again.

They said that he was weary of a love that could not change—
They told me that his fickle heart a trifle would estrange;
And I spoke with bitter scornfulness, in words I deeply rue,—
How could I think a heart like his could ever prove untrue?