Poem by Samuel Lover

The Forsaken

Let us talk of grief no more
 Till the bat is flying;
Fitter mem'ry's sadd'ning lore
 When the day is dying,
When the joyous sun hath fled,
And weeping dews around are shed:
Sad things are most fitly said,
 When the night wind's sighing.

Sighing round some lonely tow'r
 Where, within, is mourning;
And on the hearth, at midnight hour,
 Low the brands are burning.
There the embers, fading fast,
(Relics of a glowing past)
Tell of fires too fierce to last:—
 Love knows no returning.

1. The Two Barrels
2. True Love Can Never Forget
3. Rory O'More
4. Old Westminster Hall
5. Widow Machree

Duncan Scott The Forsaken ("Once in the winter")

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