When other lips and other hearts
Their tales of love shall tell.
In language whose excess imparts
The power they feel so well.
There may perhaps in such a scene
A recollection be,
Of days that have as happy been,
And you'll remember me.
When coldness and deceit shall slight
The beauty they now prize.
And deem it but a hollow light
That beams within your eyes.
When hollow hearts shall wear a mask,
'Twill break your own to see,
In such a moment I but ask
That you'll remember me.
Balfe's Opera, "The Bohemian Girl:'