| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 329. Song |
| | | By Frederick William Thomas |
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| ’T IS said that absence conquers love! | |
| But, oh! believe it not; | |
| I ’ve tried, alas! its power to prove, | |
| But thou art not forgot. | |
| Lady, though fate has bid us part, | 5 |
| Yet still thou art as dear, | |
| As fixed in this devoted heart, | |
| As when I clasped thee here. | |
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| I plunge into the busy crowd, | |
| And smile to hear thy name; | 10 |
| And yet, as if I thought aloud, | |
| They know me still the same; | |
| And when the wine-cup passes round, | |
| I toast some other fair,— | |
| But when I ask my heart the sound, | 15 |
| Thy name is echoed there. | |
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| And when some other name I learn, | |
| And try to whisper love, | |
| Still will my heart to thee return | |
| Like the returning dove. | 20 |
| In vain! I never can forget, | |
| And would not be forgot; | |
| For I must bear the same regret, | |
| Whate’er may be my lot. | |
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| E’en as the wounded bird will seek | 25 |
| Its favorite bower to die, | |
| So, lady! I would hear thee speak, | |
| And yield my parting sigh. | |
| ’T is said that absence conquers love! | |
| But, oh! believe it not; | 30 |
| I ’ve tried, alas! its power to prove, | |
| But thou are not forgot. | |
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