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THE serpent is shut out from paradise.

The wounded deer must seek the herb no more In which its heart-cure lies;

The widowed dove must cease to haunt a bower, Like that from which its mate with feignèd sighs Fled in the April hour.

I, too, must seldom seek again Near happy friends a mitigated pain.


Of hatred I am proud, with scorn content; Indifference, that once hurt me, now is grown Itself indifferent;

iii. 4 Houghton MS., Harvard MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || Sadder flowers find for me, Trelawny MS.

iii. 8 Houghton MS., Harvard MS., Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || a hope, a fear, Trelawny MS.

To Edward Williams. Rossetti || To. Trelawny MS. Stanzas to... Ascham, 1834. Stanzas. Mrs. Shelley, 18391. Published in Ascham's edition, 1834.

ii. 2 which once hurt me is now, Trelawny MS.

But, not to speak of love, pity alone Can break a spirit already more than bent. The miserable one

Turns the mind's poison into food, Its medicine is tears, its evil good.


Therefore if now I see you seldomer,

Dear friends, dear friend! know that I only fly Your looks, because they stir

Griefs that should sleep, and hopes that cannot die.

The very comfort that they minister

I scarce can bear; yet I,

So deeply is the arrow gone,

Should quickly perish if it were withdrawn.


When I return to my cold home, you ask
Why I am not as I have ever been.
You spoil me for the task

Of acting a forced part in life's dull scene,
Of wearing on my brow the idle mask
Of author, great or mean,

In the world's carnival. I sought
Peace thus, and but in you I found it not.

Full half an hour, to-day, I tried my lot
With various flowers, and every one still said,

iii. 2 Dear friends, dear friend, Trelawny MS., Mrs. Shelley, 18392 || Dear gentle friend, Mrs. Shelley, 18391.

iv. 2 ever, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || lately, Trelawny MS.

4 in, Trelawny MS. || on, Mrs. Shelley, 18391.

"She loves me - loves me not."

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And if this meant a vision long since fled If it meant fortune, fame, or peace of thought If it meant, but I dread

To speak what you may know too well: Still there was truth in the sad oracle.


The crane o'er seas and forests seeks her home;
No bird so wild but has its quiet nest,
When it no more would roam;

The sleepless billows on the ocean's breast
Break like a bursting heart, and die in foam,
And thus at length find rest:

Doubtless there is a place of peace Where my weak heart and all its throbs will cease.


I asked her, yesterday, if she believed
That I had resolution. One who had

Would ne'er have thus relieved

His heart with words, but what his judgment bade

Would do, and leave the scorner unrelieved.
These verses are too sad

To send to you, but that I know,
Happy yourself, you feel another's woe.

vi. 3 Whence, Mrs. Shelley, 18391.

8 will, Mrs. Shelley, 18392 || shall, Mrs. Shelley, 18391.

vii. 5 unrelieved, Trelawny MS., Mrs. Shelley, 18392 || unreprieved, Mrs. Shelley, 18391.

vii. 6 were, Trelawny MS.


WHERE art thou, beloved To-morrow?

When young and old, and strong and weak, Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow,

Thy sweet smiles we ever seek, –

In thy place ah! well-a-day!
We find the thing we fled - To-day.


IF I walk in Autumn's even
While the dead leaves pass,
If I look on Spring's soft heaven, —
Something is not there which was.
Winter's wondrous frost and snow,
Summer's clouds, where are they now?



O WORLD! O life! O time!

On whose last steps I climb,

Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime?

No more

oh, never more!

To-morrow. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
Lines. Published by Rossetti, 1870.

A Lament. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.


Out of the day and night

A joy has taken flight;

Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar, Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight

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oh, never more!

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