POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821 DIRGE FOR THE YEAR I ORPHAN hours, the year is dead, For the year is but asleep. II As an earthquake rocks a corse So White Winter, that rough nurse, 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, Rocks the year: - be calm and mild, Dirge for the Year. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, and dated January 1, 1821. ii. 4 death-cold, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || dead-cold, Mrs. Shelley, Trembling hours; she will arise With new love within her eyes. IV January gray is here, Like a sexton by her grave ; February bears the bier, March with grief doth howl and rave, And April weeps - but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers. TIME UNFATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years, Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears! Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality, And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore; Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Who shall put forth on thee, Unfathomable Sea? Time. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. FROM THE ARABIC AN IMITATION I My faint spirit was sitting in the light It panted for thee like the hind at noon Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight, My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, II Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, SONG I RARELY, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! From the Arabic. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day 'Tis since thou art fled away. II How shall ever one like me All but those who need thee not. III As a lizard with the shade Of a trembling leaf, Thou with sorrow art dismayed; Even the sighs of grief Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear. IV Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure ; Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. V I love all that thou lovest, Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed, And the starry night; Autumn evening, and the morn VI I love snow, and all the forms I love waves, and winds, and storms, Which is Nature's, and may be VII I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good; Between thee and me What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less. VIII I love Love-though he has wings, And like light can flee, But above all other things, Spirit, I love thee. Thou art love and life! Oh, come, Make once more my heart thy home. |