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Poem	There were Roses in the hedges, and Sunshine in the sky, Red Lilies in the sedges, where the water rippled by, A thousand Bulbuls singing, oh, how jubilant they were, And a thousand flowers flinging their sweetness on the air. But you, who sat beside me, had a shadow in your eyes, Their sadness seemed to chide me, when I gave you scant replies; You asked "Did I remember?" and "When had I ceased to care?" In vain you fanned the ember, for the love flame was not there. "And so, since you are tired of me, you ask me to forget, What is the use of caring, now that you no longer care? When Love is dead his Memory can only bring regret, But how can I forget you with the flowers in your hair?" What use the scented Roses, or the azure of the sky? They are sweet when Love reposes, but then he had to die. What could I do in leaving you, but ask you to forget,— I suffered, too, in grieving you; I all but loved you yet. But half love is a treason, that no lover can forgive, I had loved you for a season, I had no more to give. You saw my passion faltered, for I could but let you see, And it was not I that altered, but Fate that altered me. And so, since I am tired of love, I ask you to forget, What is the use you caring, now that I no longer care? When Love is dead, his Memory can only bring regret; Forget me, oh, forget me, and my flower-scented hair!
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