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“ Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
Said Mary, as we sate
And I, who thought
Asked, “Who is Aziola?” How elate
And Mary saw my soul, And laughed, and said, “ Disquiet yourself not,
'Tis nothing but a little downy owl.”
Sad Aziola ! many an eventide
Thy music I had heard By wood and stream, meadow and mountain-side,
And fields and marshes wide,
The soul ever stirred;
Loved thee and thy sad cry. The Aziola. Published by Mrs. Shelley, in The Keepsake, 1829.
ONE word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
For thee to disdain it;
For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not
And the Heavens reject not,
Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow? To Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824.
I am left lone, alone.
The swallow summer comes again,
To fly with thee, false as thou.
Sunny leaves from any bough.
Remembrance. Trelawny MS. || Song. Harvard MS. A Lament. Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. i. 2, 3 transpose, Trelawny MS. 5–7 Houghton MS. ||
As the earth when leaves are dead,
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 tomorrow, Trelawny MS.
Pansies let my flowers be;
Waste one hope, one fear for me.
TO EDWARD WILLIAMS
The serpent is shut out from paradise.
In which its heart-cure lies ;
Fled in the April hour.
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
The miserable one
Therefore if now I see you seldomer,
Your looks, because they stir
I scarce can bear; yet I,
When I return to my cold home, you ask
You spoil me for the task
Of author, great or mean,
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.