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POEMS WRITTEN IN 1817
That is our home! . . .
Mild thoughts of man's ungentle race 5
Shall our contented exile reap;
For who that in some happy place
His own free thoughts can freely chase
By woods and waves can clothe his face
In cynic smiles? Child! we shall weep. 10
Mild thoughts of man's ungentle race 5
Shall our contented exile reap;
For who that in some happy place
His own free thoughts can freely chase
By woods and waves can clothe his face
In cynic smiles? Child! we shall weep. 10
II
This lament,
The memory of thy grievous wrong
Will fade . . .
But genius is omnipotent
To hallow . . . 15
This lament,
The memory of thy grievous wrong
Will fade . . .
But genius is omnipotent
To hallow . . . 15
ON FANNY GODWIN
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, among the poems of 1817, in P. W., 1839, 1st ed.]
Her voice did quiver as we parted,
Yet knew I not that heart was broken
From which it came, and I departed
Heeding not the words then spoken.
Misery—O Misery, 5
This world is all too wide for thee.
Yet knew I not that heart was broken
From which it came, and I departed
Heeding not the words then spoken.
Misery—O Misery, 5
This world is all too wide for thee.
LINES
[Published by Mrs. Shelley with the date 'November 5th, 1817,' in Posthumous Poems, 1824.]
I
That time is dead for ever, child!
Drowned, frozen, dead for ever!
We look on the past
And stare aghast
At the spectres wailing, pale and ghast,5
Of hopes which thou and I beguiled
To death on life's dark river.
That time is dead for ever, child!
Drowned, frozen, dead for ever!
We look on the past
And stare aghast
At the spectres wailing, pale and ghast,5
Of hopes which thou and I beguiled
To death on life's dark river.
II
The stream we gazed on then rolled by;
Its waves are unreturning;
But we yet stand10
In a lone land,
Like tombs to mark the memory
Of hopes and fears, which fade and flee
In the light of life's dim morning.
The stream we gazed on then rolled by;
Its waves are unreturning;
But we yet stand10
In a lone land,
Like tombs to mark the memory
Of hopes and fears, which fade and flee
In the light of life's dim morning.
DEATH
[Published by Mrs. Shelley in Posthumous Poems, 1824.]
I
They die—the dead return not—Misery
Sits near an open grave and calls them over,
A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye—
They are the names of kindred, friend and lover,
Which he so feebly calls[1]—they all are gone—5
Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone,
They die—the dead return not—Misery
Sits near an open grave and calls them over,
A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye—
They are the names of kindred, friend and lover,
Which he so feebly calls[1]—they all are gone—5
Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone,
- ↑ Death.—5 calls edd. 1839; called 1824.
