Careful Words

forget (v.)

With thee conversing I forget all time,

All seasons, and their change,—all please alike.

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,

With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun

When first on this delightful land he spreads

His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,

Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth

After soft showers; and sweet the coming on

Of grateful ev'ning mild; then silent night

With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,

And these the gems of heaven, her starry train:

But neither breath of morn when she ascends

With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun

On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,

Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,

Nor grateful ev'ning mild, nor silent night

With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon

Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 639.

Pray you now, forget and forgive.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Lear. Act iv. Sc. 7.

  We may with advantage at times forget what we know.

Publius Syrus (42 b c): Maxim 234.

Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands,

And many friends I 've met;

Not one fair scene or kindly smile

Can this fond heart forget.

Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839): Oh, steer my Bark to Erin's Isle.

  It is sometimes expedient to forget who we are.

Publius Syrus (42 b c): Maxim 233.

Go, forget me! why should sorrow

O'er that brow a shadow fling?

Go, forget me, and to-morrow

Brightly smile and sweetly sing!

Smile,—though I shall not be near thee;

Sing,—though I shall never hear thee!

Charles Wolfe (1791-1823): Go, forget me!

And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter;

For new-made honour doth forget men's names.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King John. Act i. Sc. 1.

  When I forget my sovereign, may my God forget me.

Lord Thurlow (1732-1806): 27 Parliamentary History, 680; Annual Register, 1789.

I 've wandered east, I 've wandered west,

Through many a weary way;

But never, never can forget

The love of life's young day.

William Motherwell (1797-1835): Jeannie Morrison.

Thou hast wounded the spirit that loved thee

And cherish'd thine image for years;

Thou hast taught me at last to forget thee,

In secret, in silence, and tears.

Mrs. (David) Porter: Thou hast wounded the Spirit.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,

With one fair spirit for my minister,

That I might all forget the human race,

And hating no one, love but only her!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 177.

  If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.

Old Testament: Psalm cxxxvii. 5.

Forget thyself to marble.

John Milton (1608-1674): Il Penseroso. Line 42.

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

Henry W Longfellow (1807-1882): Evangeline. Part i. 3.