6. She loves me

loves me not.” 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.

VI
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

ту

weak heart and all its throbs will cease.

VII
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.

TO-MORROW

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.

LINES

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?

A LAMENT

I

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 ?

II 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 No more

oh, never more!

POEMS WRITTEN IN 1822

LINES

I
WHEN the lamp is shattered,
The light in the dust lies dead;

When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow's glory is shed;

When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;

When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.

II

As music and splendor
Survive not the lamp and the lute,

The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute :-

No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,

Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.

III When hearts have once mingled, Love first leaves the well-built nest; Lines. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. i. 6 tones, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || notes, Trelawny MS. ii. 6 through, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || in, Trelawny MS.

8 dead, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || lost, Trelawny MS.

The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.

O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier ?

IV

Its passions will rock thee,
As the storms rock the ravens on high ;

Bright reason will mock thee,
Like the sun from a wintry sky.

From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home

Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.

THE MAGNETIC LADY TO HER PATIENT

I

“SLEEP, sleep on! forget thy pain ;

My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain;
My pity on thy heart, poor friend ;

And from my fingers flow
The powers of life, and like a sign,

Seal thee from thine hour of woe;