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THEY die -- the dead return not — Misery
Sits near an open grave and calls them over, A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye —
They are the names of kindred, friend and lover,
This most familiar scene, my pain —
Misery, my sweetest friend oh! weep no more !
Thou wilt not be consoled — I wonder not ! For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door
Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot
This most familiar scene, my pain –
TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.
I. THE billows on the beach are leaping around it,
The bark is weak and frail,
Darkly strew the gale.
rend thee away.
They have taken thy brother and sister dear,
They have made them unfit for thee; They have withered the smile and dried the tear
Which should have been sacred to me. To a blighting faith and a cause of crime They have bound them slaves in youthly prime, And they will curse my name and thee Because we are fearless and free.
Another sleepeth still
Which thou with joy shalt fill,
With fairest smiles of wonder thrown
Fear not the tyrants will rule for ever,
Or the priests of the evil faith;
Whose waves they have tainted with death.
Rest, rest, and shriek not, thou gentle child !
The rocking of the boat thou fearest,
There sit between us two, thou dearest
An equal passion to repay
They are not coy like me.
DII. Or seek some slave of power and gold,
To be thy dear heart's mate, Thy love will move that bigot cold
Sooner than me thy hate.
A passion like the one I prove
Cannot divided be ;
How should I then hate thee?
O MARY dear, that you were here