Think of me when I’m gone away,
Far away to the Elysian Fields,
When you can no more touch my hands
Nor do I return to stay.
Think of me when no more
You see the wells of my eyes,
and tell me of the diamond dews
Nor do I return to smile dear:
But if you can no more think of me,
do not remorse my dear,
for if torrid words and remote promises
left a cloud of darkness
in your memory of me,
You must forget me
rather than think of me
in sympathy of me.
Isn’t it madness to deny to forget
when there’s nothing forever?