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All wept, as I think both ye now would
I DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that
(Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth) Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
The Question. Hunt, 1822 || A Dream. Harvard MS. Published by Hunt in The Literary Pocket-Book, 1822.
ii. 6 Harvard MS., Boscombe MS. || omit, Ollier MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
ii 7 Heaven's collected, Harvard MS., Ollier MS., Hunt, 1822 || heaven-collected, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-colored May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day, And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white;
And starry river buds among the sedge;
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes and reeds, of such deep green
Methought that of these visionary flowers
Within my hand, and then, elate and gay,
THE TWO SPIRITS
O THOU, who plumed with strong desire
Bright are the regions of the air,
And among the winds and beams It were delight to wander there— Night is coming!
The deathless stars are bright above;
And the moon will smile with gentle light
On my golden plumes where'er they move; The meteors will linger round my flight, And make night day.
But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken
The red swift clouds of the hurricane
The Two Spirits. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain — Night is coming!
I see the light, and I hear the sound;
I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark, With the calm within and the light around Which makes night day;
And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark, Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound ; My moon-like flight thou then mayst mark On high, far away.
Some say there is a precipice
Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice Mid Alpine mountains;
And that the languid storm pursuing
That winged shape forever flies
Some say when nights are dry and clear,
And the death-dews sleep on the morass, Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller, Which make night day;
And a silver shape like his early love doth pass,
31 moon-like, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || moonlight, Mrs. Shelley, 18391. 44 makes, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
LETTER TO MARIA GISBORNE
LEGHORN, July 1, 1820.
THE spider spreads her webs whether she be
Whoever should behold me now, I wist,
Of some machine portentous, or strange gin,
For round the walls are hung dread engines, such
Letter to Maria Gisborne. Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || Letter to Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
2 cellar, or barn, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || cellar, barn, Mrs. Shelley, transcript.
13 must, Boscombe MS. || most, Mrs. Shelley, transcript, 1824.