POEMS WRITTEN IN 1820
617
When the north wind congregates in crowds
The floating mountains of the silver clouds
From the horizon—and the stainless sky 5
Opens beyond them like eternity.
All things rejoiced beneath the sun: the weeds,
The river, and the corn-fields, and the reeds;
The willow leaves that glanced in the light breeze,
And the firm foliage of the larger trees. 10
The floating mountains of the silver clouds
From the horizon—and the stainless sky 5
Opens beyond them like eternity.
All things rejoiced beneath the sun: the weeds,
The river, and the corn-fields, and the reeds;
The willow leaves that glanced in the light breeze,
And the firm foliage of the larger trees. 10
It was a winter such as when birds die[1]
In the deep forests; and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes
Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes
A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when, 15
Among their children, comfortable men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold:
Alas, then, for the homeless beggar old!
In the deep forests; and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes
Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes
A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when, 15
Among their children, comfortable men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold:
Alas, then, for the homeless beggar old!
THE TOWER OF FAMINE
[Published by Mrs. Shelley in The Keepsake, 1829. Mr. C. W. Frederickson of Brooklyn possesses a transcript in Mrs. Shelley's handwriting.]
Amid the desolation of a city,
Which was the cradle, and is now the grave
Of an extinguished people,—so that Pity
Which was the cradle, and is now the grave
Of an extinguished people,—so that Pity
Weeps o'er the shipwrecks of Oblivion's wave,
There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built 5
Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave
There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built 5
Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave
For[2] bread, and gold, and blood: Pain, linked to Guilt,
Agitates the light flame of their hours,
Until its vital oil is spent or spilt.
Agitates the light flame of their hours,
Until its vital oil is spent or spilt.
There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers 10
And sacred domes; each marble-ribbèd roof,
The brazen-gated temples, and the bowers
And sacred domes; each marble-ribbèd roof,
The brazen-gated temples, and the bowers
Of solitary wealth,—the tempest-proof
Pavilions of the dark Italian air,—
Are by its presence dimmed—they stand aloof, 15
Pavilions of the dark Italian air,—
Are by its presence dimmed—they stand aloof, 15
And are withdrawn—so that the world is bare;
As if a spectre wrapped in shapeless terror
Amid a company of ladies fair
As if a spectre wrapped in shapeless terror
Amid a company of ladies fair
Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror
Of all their beauty, and their hair and hue, 20
The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error,
Should be absorbed, till they to marble grew.
Of all their beauty, and their hair and hue, 20
The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error,
Should be absorbed, till they to marble grew.
