When eve is gathering round us, with the gloom
Of stormy clouds, a time to part our steps
Upon the darkening wild?
Elm. (coldly.) There needs not this.
Why shouldst thou think I shunn’d thee
Gon. Should the love
That shone o’er many years, th’ unfading love,
Whose only change hath been from gladdening smiles
To mingling sorrows and sustaining strength,
Thus lightly be forgotten?