***

TO —.

[Published in “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.  See Editor’s Note.]

Yet look on me—­take not thine eyes away,
Which feed upon the love within mine own,
Which is indeed but the reflected ray
Of thine own beauty from my spirit thrown. 
Yet speak to me—­thy voice is as the tone 5
Of my heart’s echo, and I think I hear
That thou yet lovest me; yet thou alone
Like one before a mirror, without care
Of aught but thine own features, imaged there;

And yet I wear out life in watching thee; 10
A toil so sweet at times, and thou indeed
Art kind when I am sick, and pity me...

***

MUTABILITY.

[Published with “Alastor”, 1816.]

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!—­yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever: 

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings 5
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.

We rest.—­A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.—­One wandering thought pollutes the day; 10
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away: 

It is the same!—­For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free: 
Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow; 15
Nought may endure but Mutability.

NOTES: 
15 may 1816; can Lodore, chapter 49, 1835 (Mrs. Shelley).
16 Nought may endure but 1816;
    Nor aught endure save Lodore, chapter 49, 1835 (Mrs. Shelley).

***

ON DEATH.

[For the date of composition see Editor’s Note.  Published with “Alastor”, 1816.]

THERE IS NO WORK, NOR DEVICE, NOR KNOWLEDGE, NOR WISDOM,
IN THE GRAVE, WHITHER THOU GOEST.—­Ecclesiastes.

The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn’s undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone. 5

O man! hold thee on in courage of soul
Through the stormy shades of thy worldly way,
And the billows of cloud that around thee roll
Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day, 10
Where Hell and Heaven shall leave thee free
To the universe of destiny.

This world is the nurse of all we know,
This world is the mother of all we feel,
And the coming of death is a fearful blow 15
To a brain unencompassed with nerves of steel;
When all that we know, or feel, or see,
Shall pass like an unreal mystery.