TIME LONG PAST I LIKE the ghost of a dear friend dead A tone which is now forever fled, II There were sweet dreams in the night Of Time long past: And, was it sadness or delight, Each day a shadow onward cast Which made us wish it yet might last That Time long past. III There is regret, almost remorse, "Tis like a child's beloved corse From Time long past. Time Long Past. Published by Rossetti, 1870. BUONA NOTTE I "BUONA notte, buona notte!" La notte sarà buona senza te? - Come mai Non dirmi buona notte, chè tu sai, II Solinga, scura, cupa, senza speme, III Come male buona notte si suona E mai non di dir la buona notte. GOOD-NIGHT I GOOD-NIGHT? ah, no! the hour is ill Buona Notte. Published by Medwin in The Angler in Wales, 1834. The text follows Rossetti's version of the Boscombe MS. Good-Night. Published by Hunt, The Literary Pocket-Book, 1822. i.-iii. Harvard MS. Mrs. Shelley, 1824. i. 1 Good-night? no, love! the night is ill, Stacey MS. Let us remain together still, Then it will be good night. II How can I call the lone night good, III To hearts which near each other move ii. 1 How were the night without thee good, Stacey MS. iii. 1 The hearts that on each other beat, Stacey MS., The, Har vard MS. cancelled. iii. 3 Have nights as good as they are sweet, Stacey MS. iii. 4 They But, Stacey MS. POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821 DIRGE FOR THE YEAR I ORPHAN hours, the year is dead, For the year is but asleep. II As an earthquake rocks a corse Solemn hours! wail aloud For your mother in her shroud. III As the wild air stirs and sways Rocks the year: Dirge for the Year. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, and dated January 1, 1821. ii. 4 death-cold, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || dead-cold, Mrs. Shelley, Trembling hours; she will arise With new love within her eyes. IV January gray is here, Like a sexton by her grave; March with grief doth howl and rave, TIME UNFATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years, Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears! Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality, And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore; Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Who shall put forth on thee, Unfathomable Sea? Time. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824. |