Page:The complete poetical works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, including materials never before printed in any edition of the poems.djvu/586

 Misery! we have known each other, Like a sister and a brother Living in the same lone home, Many years—we must live some Hours or ages yet to come.

'Tis an evil lot, and yet Let us make the best of it; If love can live when pleasure dies, We two will love, till in our eyes This heart's Hell seem Paradise.

Come, be happy!—lie thee down On the fresh grass newly mown, Where the Grasshopper doth sing Merrily—one joyous thing In a world of sorrowing!

There our tent shall be the willow, And mine arm shall be thy pillow; Sounds and odours, sorrowful Because they once were sweet, shall lull Us to slumber, deep and dull.

Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter With a love thou darest not utter. Thou art murmuring—thou art weeping— Is thine icy bosom leaping While my burning hearthes sleeping?

Kiss me;— oh! thy lips are cold: Round my neck thine arms enfold— They are soft, but chill and dead; And thy tears upon my head Burn like points of frozen lead.

Hasten to the bridal bed— Underneath the grave 'tis spread: In darkness may our love be hid, Oblivion be our coverlid— We may rest, and none forbid.

Clasp me till our hearts be grown Like two shadows into one; Till this dreadful transport may Like a vapour fade away, In the sleep that lasts alway.

We may dream, in that long sleep, That we are not those who weep; E'en as Pleasure dreams of thee, Life-deserting Misery, Thou mayst dream of her with me.

Let us laugh, and make our mirth, At the shadows of the earth, As dogs bay the moonlight clouds. Which, like spectres wrapped in shrouds, Pass o'er night in multitudes.

All the wide world, beside us, Show like multitudinous Puppets passing from a scene; What but mockery can they mean, Where I am—where thou hast been?