Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/309

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And mournful tones are in the wind, Which I heard not till ye died!

Thou art welcome, O thou summoner! Why should the last remain? What eye can reach my heart of hearts, Bearing in light again? E'en could this be, too much of fear O'er love would now be thrown— Away, away! from time, from change, Once more to meet my own!