Our lonely hearts will grudge thee not thy
sleep,
Who grudged us not thy song.
TO SHELLEY.
Born near Horsham, Sussex, August 4, 1792. Drowned in the Bay of Spezzia, July 8, 1822.
i.
wHENE'ER I hear the wind, I think
of thee,
O Shelley, bird of most aerial note,
Who pouredst kindred songs from thy
clear throat,
As passion wild, impetuous, and free,
As shrill with sudden ecstacies of glee
And hoarse with human agonies which smote
Thy gentlest heart till it would fain devote
Its music unto man's captivity.
For thou wouldst have all chains of pride and
fear,
Which rust the willing spirit where they bind,
Dissolved in love, as shadows disappear
Before the sun ; to evil unresigned,
Urging the nobler discontent we hear
In all the restless voices of the wind.
