Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing, Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love?

Farewell, my sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well.

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been— A sound which makes us linger;—yet—farewell!

Farewell! For in that word—that fatal word—howe’er We promise—hope—believe—there breathes despair.

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.