APOLOGUE.
317
Seek for me where the clouds are dark,
Where the billows foam round the sinking bark;
Where the aspen-leaf floats on the summer's gale,
Where the rose bends low at the nightingale's tale;
Where the wind-harp wakens in melody,
If we should sever, there seek for me.
SHAME.
Seek not me, if we should sever:
Parted once, we part for ever.
