Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/764

 PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge

With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way

That the same hues which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array

Kept these imprison'd children of the Hours Within my hand ; and then, elate and gay,

I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come,

That I might there present it O! to whom?

��624 Remorse

AVAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of e^ven 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.

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