That but a moment's thought is passion's passing bell.

"Why do you sigh, fair creature?" whisper'd he:

"Why do you think?" return'd she tenderly:

"You have deserted me - where am I now?

Not in your heart while care weighs on your brow:

No, no, you have dismiss'd me; and I go

From your breast houseless: ay, it must be so."

He answer'd, bending to her open eyes,

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