Sunday, September 10, 2017

Designations to dissolve

Every time I read Shel-
ley, I find myself ask-
ing why we call his an
English language voice.

                  And the dim low line before
                  Of a dark and distant shore
                  Still recedes, as ever still
                  Longing with divided will,
                  But no power to seek or shun,
                  He is ever drifted on ..

                  What, if there no friends will greet;
                  What, if there no heart will meet
                  His with love's impatient beat;
                  Wander wheresoe'er he may,
                  Can he dream before that day
                  To find refuge from distress
                  In friendship's smile, in love's caress?

                  Then 'twill wreak him little woe
                  Whether such there be or no:
                  Senseless is the breast, and cold,
                  Which relenting love would fold;
                  Bloodless are the veins and chill
                  Which the pulse of pain did fill;
                  Every little living nerve
                  That from bitter words did swerve
                  Round the tortured lips and brow,
                  Are like sapless leaflets now


Percy Bysshe Shelley

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