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EARLY POEMS
519
V
We are not happy, sweet! our state
Is strange and full of doubt and fear; 26
More need of words that ills abate;—
Reserve or censure come not near
Our sacred friendship, lest there be
No solace left for thee[1] and me. 30
We are not happy, sweet! our state
Is strange and full of doubt and fear; 26
More need of words that ills abate;—
Reserve or censure come not near
Our sacred friendship, lest there be
No solace left for thee[1] and me. 30
TO ———
[Published in Poetical Works, 1839, 2nd ed. See Editor's Note.]
Yet look on me—take not thine eyes away,
Which feed upon the love within mine own,
Which is indeed but the reflected ray
Of thine own beauty from my spirit thrown.
Yet speak to me—thy voice is as the tone 5
Of my heart's echo, and I think I hear
That thou yet lovest me; yet thou alone
Like one before a mirror, without care
Of aught but thine own features, imaged there;
And yet I wear out life in watching thee; 10
A toil so sweet at times, and thou indeed
Art kind when I am sick, and pity me...
Which feed upon the love within mine own,
Which is indeed but the reflected ray
Of thine own beauty from my spirit thrown.
Yet speak to me—thy voice is as the tone 5
Of my heart's echo, and I think I hear
That thou yet lovest me; yet thou alone
Like one before a mirror, without care
Of aught but thine own features, imaged there;
And yet I wear out life in watching thee; 10
A toil so sweet at times, and thou indeed
Art kind when I am sick, and pity me...
MUTABILITY
[Published with Alastor, 1816.]
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!—yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!—yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings 5
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep:
We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day;10
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:
We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day;10
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:
