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In the absence of the sun :
Oh, linger long, thou envious eastern lamp In the damp
Caves of the deep!
Nay, return, Vesper! urge thy lazy car!
The gates of Sleep!
The golden gate of Sleep unbar,
When Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image, like a star
In a sea of glassy weather. May the purple mist of love
Round them rise, and with them move,
Nourishing each tender gem
Which, like flowers, will burst from them.
As the fruit is to the tree
May their children ever be !
PONTE AL MARE, PISA
THE sun is set; the swallows are asleep;
Evening. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep,
And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, Wakes not one ripple from its summer dream.
There is no dew on the dry grass to-night,
Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light;
And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town.
Within the surface of the fleeting river
It trembles, but it never fades away;
You, being changed, will find it then as now.
The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut
Growing and moving upwards in a crowd, And over it a space of watery blue, Which the keen evening star is shining through.
i. 6 summer, Mrs. Shelley, 18392 || silent, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. iv. 2 enormous, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || cinereous, Boscombe MS.
"Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
Said Mary, as we sate
In dusk, ere stars were lit, or candles brought; And I, who thought
This Aziola was some tedious woman,
Asked, "Who is Aziola?" How elate I felt to know that it was nothing human, No mockery of myself to fear or hate! And Mary saw my soul,
And laughed, and said, "Disquiet yourself not, 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl."
Sad Aziola! many an eventide
By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side,
Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird,
The soul ever stirred;
Unlike and far sweeter than them all.
Sad Aziola! from that moment I
Loved thee and thy sad cry.
The Aziola. Published by Mrs. Shelley, in The Keepsake, 1829.
ONE word is too often profaned
For prudence to smother,
I can give not what men call love,
The worship the heart lifts above
From the sphere of our sorrow? To. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
SWIFTER far than summer's flight,
Art thou come and gone.
As the night when sleep is fled,
The swallow summer comes again,
To fly with thee, false as thou.
Sunny leaves from any bough.
Remembrance. Trelawny MS. || Song. Harvard MS. A LaMrs. Shelley, 1824. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. i. 2, 3 transpose, Trelawny MS.
5-7 Houghton MS. ||
As the earth when leaves are dead,
As the night when sleep is sped,
As the heart when joy is fled,
Trelawny MS., Harvard MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
i. 8 Houghton MS., Harvard MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || alone, alone, Trelawny MS.
ii. 2 his, Houghton MS. | her, Trelawny MS., Harvard MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
ii. 5 Houghton MS., Harvard MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || My heart to-day desires to-morrow, Trelawny MS.