PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Like a poet hidden

In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not :

Like a high-born maiden

In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden

Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:

Like a glow-worm golden

In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden

Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view

Like a rose embower J d

In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflower'd,

Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves

Sound of vernal showers

On the twinkling grass, Rain-awaken'd flowers

All that ever was Joyous and clear and fresh thy music doth surpass.

Teach us, sprite or bird,

What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard

Praise of love or wine

That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

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