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FROM THE ARABIC
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, Bore thee far from me;
My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,
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,
RARELY, rarely, comest thou,
From the Arabic. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
Wherefore hast thou left me now
How shall ever one like me
As a lizard with the shade
Of a trembling leaf,
Thou with sorrow art dismayed;
Let me set my mournful ditty
Thou wilt come for pleasure;
Pity then will cut away
Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
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
I love snow, and all the forms
I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Which is Nature's, and may be
I love tranquil solitude,
As is quiet, wise, and good;
What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less.
I love Love-though he has wings,
But above all other things,
Thou art love and life! Oh, come,
SWIFTLY walk o'er the western wave,
Out of the misty eastern cave,
Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
When I arose and saw the dawn,
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
To Night. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. i. 1 o'er, Harvard MS. || over, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. iii. 5 his her, Rossetti.
Thy brother Death came, and cried,
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Death will come when thou art dead,
Sleep will come when thou art fled;
MUSIC, when soft voices die,
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.