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MINOR FRAGMENTS

HOME

DEAR home, thou scene of earliest hopes and joys, The least of which wronged Memory ever makes Bitterer than all thine unremembered tears.

FRAGMENT OF A GHOST STORY

A SHOVEL of his ashes took
From the hearth's obscurest nook,
Muttering mysteries as she went.
Helen and Henry knew that Granny
Was as much afraid of ghosts as any,
And so they followed hard

But Helen clung to her brother's arm,
And her own spasm made her shake.

O MARY dear,

TO MARY

that you were here!

With your brown eyes bright and clear,
And your sweet voice, like a bird

Home. Forman. Published by Garnett, 1862, dated 1816. Fragment of a Ghost Story. Forman. Published by Garnett, 1862, dated 1816.

To Mary. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, dated 1818.

Singing love to its lone mate
In the ivy bower disconsolate;
Voice the sweetest ever heard!
And your brow more

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Of this azure Italy.

Mary dear, come to me soon,
I am not well whilst thou art far;
As sunset to the spherèd moon,
As twilight to the western star,
Thou, beloved, art to me.

O Mary dear, that you were here!
The Castle echo whispers" Here !

TO MARY

THE world is dreary,

And I am weary

Of wandering on without thee, Mary;

A joy was erewhile

In thy voice and thy smile,

And 'tis gone, when I should be gone too, Mary.

TO MARY

My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone, And left me in this dreary world alone!

Thy form is here indeed

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a lovely one

To Mary. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 18392, dated 1819. 6 when where, Rossetti conj.

To Mary. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 18392, dated 1819.

But thou art fled, gone down the dreary road, That leads to Sorrow's most obscure abode ; Thou sittest on the hearth of pale despair,

where

For thine own sake I cannot follow thee.

TO WILLIAM SHELLEY

With what truth may I say

Roma, Roma, Roma,
Non è più come era prima!

I

My lost William, thou in whom
Some bright spirit lived, and did
That decaying robe consume

Which its lustre faintly hid,-
Here its ashes find a tomb;

But beneath this pyramid

Thou art not — if a thing divine

-

Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine
Is thy mother's grief and mine.

II

Where art thou, my gentle child?
Let me think thy spirit feeds,
With its life intense and mild,
The love of living leaves and weeds
Among these tombs and ruins wild;

Let me think that through low seeds

To William Shelley. Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || To William, Harvard MS. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 1824, dated 1819. Motto: may I, Harvard MS. || I may, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. ii. 3 with, Harvard MS. || within, Mrs. Shelley, 1824.

Of sweet flowers and sunny grass
Into their hues and scents may pass
A portion

LINES WRITTEN FOR THE POEM TO
WILLIAM SHELLEY

I

THE world is now our dwelling-place;
Where'er the earth one fading trace
Of what was great and free does keep,
That is our home!

Mild thoughts of man's ungentle race
Shall our contented exile reap;
For who that in some happy place
His own free thoughts can freely chase
By woods and waves can clothe his face
In cynic smiles? Child! we shall weep.

II

This lament,

The memory of thy grievous wrong

Will fade

But genius is Omnipotent

To hallow

ii. 7 Of sweet, Harvard MS. || Of the sweet, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Lines written for the Poem to William Shelley. Published by Garnett, 1862, dated 1818.

TO WILLIAM SHELLEY

THY little footsteps on the sands
Of a remote and lonely shore;
The twinkling of thine infant hands

Where now the worm will feed no more;
Thy mingled look of love and glee
When we returned to gaze on thee

TO CONSTANTIA

I

THE rose that drinks the fountain dew
In the pleasant air of noon,
Grows pale and blue with altered hue
In the gaze of the nightly moon;

For the planet of frost, so cold and bright,
Makes it wan with her borrowed light.

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And that at best a withered blossom;

But thy false care did idly wear

Its withered leaves in a faithless bosom ;

And fed with love, like air and dew,

Its growth

To William Shelley. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 18391, dated

1819.

To Constantia. Published by Mrs. Shelley, 18391, dated 1817.

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