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To feel forever its soft fall and swell,
Awake forever in a sweet unrest,
When the winds are breathing low,
Oh lift me from the grass!
it to thine own again,
Percy Bysshe Shelley
NE word is too often profaned
me to profane it,
For thee to disdain it.
For prudence to smother,
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,
Percy Bysshe Shelley
USIC, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory-
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Percy Bysshe Shelley 92
IRDS in the high Hall-garden
When twilight was falling,
They were crying and calling.
Where was Maud? in our wood;
And 1—who else? —was with her,
Myriads blow together.
Birds in our woods sang
Ringing thro' the valleys,
In among the lilies.
I kissed her slender hand,
She took the kiss sedately;
But she is tall and stately.
I to cry out on pride
Who have won her favor!
If lowliness could save her!
I know the way she went
Home with her maiden posy,
1 Lyrics from Maud: A Monodrama.
Birds in the high Hall-garden
Were crying and calling to her, Where is Maud, Maud, Maud?
One is come to woo her.
Look, a horse at the door,
And little King Charley snarling! Go back, my lord, across the moor,
You are not her darling.
IVULET crossing my ground,
And bringing me down from the Hall This garden-rose that I found,
Forgetful of Maud and me,
Here at the head of a tinkling fall,
O rivulet, born' at the Hall, My Maud has sent it by thee
If I read her sweet will rightOn a blushing mission to me,
Saying in odor and color, "Ah be Among the roses to-night.”
OME into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown.
For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves,
On a bed of daffodil sky,To faint in the light of the sun that she loves,
To faint in its light, and to die.
All night have the roses heard
The flute, violin, bassoon;
To the dancers dancing in tune, -
And a hush with the setting moon.
I said to the lily, “There is but one
With whom she has heart to be gay. When will the dancers leave her alone?
She is weary of dance and play.”
And half to the rising day;
The last wheel echoes away.
I said to the rose, “The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
For one that will never be thine?
“For ever and ever mine!”
And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
As the music clashed in the hall; And long by the garden lake I stood, For I heard your rivulet fall