The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914)/Dirge for the Year
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821
DIRGE FOR THE YEAR
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824, and dated January 1, 1821.]
I
Orphan Hours, the Year is dead,
Come and sigh, come and weep!
Merry Hours, smile instead,
For the Year is but asleep.
See, it smiles as it is sleeping, 5
Mocking your untimely weeping.
Orphan Hours, the Year is dead,
Come and sigh, come and weep!
Merry Hours, smile instead,
For the Year is but asleep.
See, it smiles as it is sleeping, 5
Mocking your untimely weeping.
II
As an earthquake rocks a corse
In its coffin in the clay,
So White Winter, that rough nurse,
Rocks the death-cold Year today; 10
Solemn Hours! wail aloud
For your mother in her shroud.
As an earthquake rocks a corse
In its coffin in the clay,
So White Winter, that rough nurse,
Rocks the death-cold Year today; 10
Solemn Hours! wail aloud
For your mother in her shroud.
III
As the wild air stirs and sways
The tree-swung cradle of a child,
So the breath of these rude days 15
Rocks the Year:—becalm and mild,
Trembling Hours, she will arise
With new love within her eyes.
As the wild air stirs and sways
The tree-swung cradle of a child,
So the breath of these rude days 15
Rocks the Year:—becalm and mild,
Trembling Hours, she will arise
With new love within her eyes.
IV
January gray is here,
Like a sexton by her grave; 20
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps—but, ye Hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.
January gray is here,
Like a sexton by her grave; 20
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps—but, ye Hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.