TIME LONG PAST I LIKE the ghost of a dear friend dead Is Time long past. A tone which is now forever fled, A love so sweet it could not last, II There were sweet dreams in the night And, was it sadness or delight, Each day a shadow onward cast Which made us wish it yet might last That Time long past. III There is regret, almost remorse, 'Tis like a child's beloved corse Time Long Past. Published by Rossetti, 1870. BUONA NOTTE I "BUONA notte, buona notte!" - Come mai La notte sarà buona senza te? Non dirmi buona notte, - chè tu sai, II Solinga, scura, cupa, senza speme, La notte quando Lilla m'abbandona; Pei cuori chi si batton insieme Ogni notte, senza dirla, sarà buona. III Come male buona notte si suona GOOD-NIGHT I GOOD-NIGHT? ah, no! the hour is ill Buona Notte. Published by Medwin in The Angler in Wales, 1834. The text follows Rossetti's version of the Boscombe MS. Good-Night. Published by Hunt, The Literary Pocket-Book, 1822. i.-iii. Harvard MS. Mrs. Shelley, 1824. i. 1 Good-night? no, love! the night is ill, Stacey MS. Let us remain together still, II How can I call the lone night good, Be it not said, thought, understood, III To hearts which near each other move ii. 1 How were the night without thee good, Stacey MS. iii. 1 The hearts that on each other beat, Stacey MS., The, Har vard MS. cancelled. iii. 3 Have nights as good as they are sweet, Stacey MS. iii. 4 They || But, Stacey MS. POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821 DIRGE FOR THE YEAR I ORPHAN hours, the year is dead, Merry hours, smile instead, II As an earthquake rocks a corse So White Winter, that rough nurse, III As the wild air stirs and sways 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 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! 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. |