The pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the
names of their founders.

The pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the
names of their founders.

The tumult and the shouting dies,
The captains and the kings depart;
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice,
read more

The tumult and the shouting dies,
The captains and the kings depart;
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice,
A humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet
Lest we forget,--lest we forget.

It is sometimes expedient to forget what you know.
[Lat., Etiam oblivisci quod scis interdum expedit.]

It is sometimes expedient to forget what you know.
[Lat., Etiam oblivisci quod scis interdum expedit.]

God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we read more

God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!

To the sick man the physician when he enters seems to have three
faces, those of a man, a read more

To the sick man the physician when he enters seems to have three
faces, those of a man, a devil, a god. When the physician first
comes and announces the safety of the patient, then the sick man
says: "Behold a God or a guardian angel!"
[Lat., Intrantis medici facies tres esse videntur
Aegrotanti; hominis, Daemonis, atque Dei.
Cum primum accessit medicus dixitque salutem,
En Deus aut custos angelus, aeger ait.]

Go, forget me--why should sorrow
O'er that brow a shadow fling?
Go, forget me--and to-morrow
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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.

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

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

We bury love,
Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;
That is a thing to weep for, not read more

We bury love,
Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;
That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

Our God and soldier we alike adore,
When at the brink of ruin, not before;
After deliverance read more

Our God and soldier we alike adore,
When at the brink of ruin, not before;
After deliverance both alike requited,
Our God forgotten, and our soldiers slighted.