Of summer-winds, a voice of melody,
Solemn, yet lovely! Mother, I depart!—
Be it thy comfort, in the after-days,
That thou hast seen me thus!
Elm. Distract me not
With such wild fears! Can I bear on with life
When thou art gone?—thy voice, thy step, thy smile,
Pass’d from my path! Alas! even now thine eye
Is changed—thy cheek is fading!
Xim. Ay, the clouds