Poem by Caroline Lamb

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Sing not for others but for me,
In ev'ry thought, in ev'ry strain,
Though I perchance am far from thee,
And we may never meet again:
Though I may only weep for thee,
Sing not for others but for me.

In starry night, or soft moon-beam,
In mossy bank, or rippling stream,
In balmy breeze or fragrant flower,
Though dearer hands may deck the bower,
In all that's sweet or fair to thee,
Sing not for others but for me.

If e'er thou sing'st thy native lay,
As thou wert wont in happier day,
That lay which breath'd of love and truth,
And all the joys of early youth:
Though all those joys are past for thee,
Sing not for others, but for me.

1. After Many A Well-Fought Day
2. Lines to Harriet Wilson
3. Weep For What Thou'st Lost
4. Amidst the Flowers Rich and Gay
5. This Heart Has Never Stoop'D Its Pride

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