Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/329

Rh

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.

Seek not me, if we should sever: Parted once, we part for ever.