Chapter XXXVIII.

"Fare thee well! and if forever,
Still forever, fare thee well,
Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.

Yet, O, yet thyself deceive not;
Love may sink by slow decay,
But by sudden wrench, believe not,
Hearts can thus be torn away.
Still thine own its life retaineth,
Still must mine, though bleeding, beat,
And the undying thought which paineth,
Is, that we no more may meet."
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