LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY

THE fountains mingle with the river,

And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever

With a sweet emotion ;
Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle:

Why not I with thine ?

II

See the mountains kiss high heaven,

And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea :
What are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?

Love's Philosophy, Hunt, 1819 || An Anacreontic, Harvard MS. Published by Hunt, The Indicator, December 22, 1819. Dated in the Harvard MS., January, 1820.

POEMS WRITTEN IN 1820

THE SENSITIVE PLANT

PART FIRST

A SENSITIVE Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light,
And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.

And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.

But none ever trembled and panted with bliss
In the garden, the field, or the wilderness,
Like a doe in the noontide with love's sweet want,
As the companionless Sensitive Plant.

The snowdrop, and then the violet,
Arose from the ground with warm rain wet,
And their breath was mixed with fresh odor, sent
From the turf, like the voice and the instrument.

The Sensitive Plant. Published with Prometheus Unbound, 1820. Composed at Pisa, and dated, in the Harvard MS., March, 1820.

6 Like, felt, Harvard MS., Shelley, 1820 || And, Mrs. Shelley, 18391, fell, Mrs. Shelley, 18392.

Then the pied wind-flowers and the tulip tall,
And narcissi, the fairest among them all,
Who

eyes

in the stream's recess Till they die of their own dear loveliness;

gaze on their

And the Naiad-like lily of the vale,
Whom youth makes so fair, and passion so

pale,
That the light of its tremulous bells is seen
Through their pavilions of tender green;

And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue,
Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew
Of music so delicate, soft, and intense,
It was felt like an odor within the sense ;

And the rose like a nymph to the bath ad

dressed, Which unveiled the depth of her glowing breast, Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air The soul of her beauty and love lay bare ;

And the wand-like lily, which lifted up,
As a Mænad, its moonlight-colored cup,
Till the fiery star, which is its eye,
Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky;

And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tube

rose, The sweetest flower for scent that blows; And all rare blossoms from

clime Grew in that garden in perfect prime.

And on the stream whose inconstant bosom
Was pranked, under boughs of embowering blossom,
With golden and green light, slanting through
Their heaven of many a tangled hue,

Broad water-lilies lay tremulously,
And starry river-buds glimmered by,
And around them the soft stream did glide and

dance
With a motion of sweet sound and radiance.

And the sinuous paths of lawn and of moss, Which led through the garden along and across, Some open at once to the sun and the breeze, Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees,

Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells,
As fair as the fabulous asphodels,
And flowrets which, drooping as day drooped too,
Fell into pavilions white, purple, and blue,
To roof the glowworm from the evening dew.

And from this undefiled Paradise
The flowers (as an infant's awakening eyes
Smile on its mother, whose singing sweet
Can first lull, and at last must awaken it)

When Heaven's blithe winds had unfolded them
As mine-lamps enkindle a hidden gem, ,
Shone smiling to Heaven, and every one
Shared joy in the light of the gentle sun;

For each one was interpenetrated
With the light and the odor its neighbor shed,
Like young lovers whom youth and love make dear,
Wrapped and filled by their mutual atmosphere.

But the Sensitive Plant, which could give small

fruit Of the love which it felt from the leaf to the root, Received more than all, it loved more than ever, Where none wanted but it, could belong to the

giver;

For the Sensitive Plant has no bright flower;
Radiance and odor are not its dower;
It loves, even like Love, its deep heart is full,
It desires what it has not, the beautiful !

The light winds which from unsustaining wings
Shed the music of many murmurings;
The beams which dart from many a star
Of the flowers whose hues they bear afar ;

The plumèd insects swift and free,
Like golden boats on a sunny sea,
Laden with light and odor, which pass
Over the gleam of the living grass ;

The unseen clouds of the dew, which lie
Like fire in the flowers till the sun rides high,
Then wander like spirits among the spheres,
Each cloud faint with the fragrance it bears ;