Can sorrow find me in this far-off spot
Hidden in a mist of blue forget-me-not? 
Through the deep shadows where the bluebells grow
I crept with silent feet that none could know. 
No ruder touch than petals from the bough 
Of apple bloom can fall upon me now; 
No harsher sound than birds upon the wing
And all the thousand harmonies of Spring. 
I have grown old in sorrow's chill embrace, 
I have grown tired of tears upon my face; 
Today I will forget old sorrow's pain. 
Today I will be young, and glad again. 
Will sorrow find me in this far-off spot
Hidden in blue-bell mist and sweet forget-me-not?