“Hark to that! What is it?”
“It is the sea!”
It came to sound louder. No lights of haven, nor could they have seen them, perhaps, behind the great moving veils and under woldside and cliff.
“I fear to go farther this way for the cliffs! We may fall—”
“It roars, the sea, and there are lights in my eyes and a singing afar. I must lie down. I cannot go farther.”
“A little more—a little more. See! I can help thee so.”
“Ah, I love thee! But I cannot—Do you not hear music playing?”
“Here are bushes bent from the sea. Creep under—so! There—now if we die we die together.”
The falling, falling, falling snow, and at the base of rock the sounding sea.
“What art thou doing? Take thy cloak again!”