To Anna

Eliza Acton

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Think of me, dearest! when the Western star
Sheds o'er the soft blue heav'n its lovely light;
For know, that I, though near thee, or afar,
Gaze on it ever with a still delight.

Think of me, dearest! when the op'ning spring
Show'rs her young buds of beauty round thy feet,
And early violets to the breezes fling
The rich, pure perfume, which I lov'd to greet.

Think of me, dearest! when the summer flow'rs
Give to the wand'ring wind their fragrant sighs:
Remember, I, in home, or foreign bow'rs,
Bend o'er their blossoms with enchanted eyes.

Think of me, dearest! when the calm waves flow
All tranquilly beneath the moon-light beam;
For I have oft, with pleasure's warmest glow,
Watch'd silently their sweet, and silv'ry gleam.

Think of me, dearest! if thy ling'ring gaze
In far-off years upon this page shall rest:
Then may rekindling thoughts of "other days,"
Waken love's kindliest beatings in thy breast!

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