REMORSE
by: Percy Bysshe Shelly
(1792-1822)
- WAY! the
moor is dark beneath the moon,
- Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
- Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
- And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
- Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries 'Away!'
- Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:
- Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy
stay:
- Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
-
- Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
- Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
- Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
- And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
- The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine
head,
- The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:
- But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds
the dead,
- Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace,
may meet.
-
- The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
- For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep;
- Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
- Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep.
- Thou in the grave shall rest:--yet, till the phantoms flee,
- Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile,
- Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free
- From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet
smile.
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