...this sweet day is gone. Which my lost heart, too soon grown i>M, Insults with this untimely moan. They might lament, — for I am one Whom men love not, and yet regret : Unlike this day,' which, when the SHU Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoy'd, like joy in memuiy yet. THE ONLY...

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...sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; They he ham On a Faded Violet. The colour from the flower is gone, Which like thy sweet eyes smiled on me ; The...

...sweet day is goue, Which my lost heart, too soou grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; They might lament, — for I am one Whom men love not,...Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. Percy Bi/sshe Shelley. VIRGIL'S TOMB. I CAME, great bard, to gazs upon thy shrine, And o'er thy relies...

...sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; They might lament — for I am one . Whom men love not,...Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. December, 1818. ODE TO THE WEST WIND. L WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose...

...sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; They might lament — for I am one Whom men love not —...Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet." At the risk of citing a lyric familiar in the mouths of readers as any lyric by any poet, it is impossible...

...Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moau ; They might lament, — for 1 am one Whom men love not, — and yet regret, Unlike...Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet, Percy Bi/sihe Shelley. VIRGIL'S TOMB. I CAME, great bard, to gaze upon thy shrine, And o'er thy relics...

...grown old, Insults with this untimely moan; They might lament—for I am one Whom men love not—and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall...Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet." 240 SHELLEY: At the risk of citing a lyric familiar in the mouths of readers as any lyric by any poet,...

...grown old, Insults with this 1mtimely moan; They might lament—for I am one 'Whom men love not,—and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall...Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. AUTUMN: 1 A DIRGE. I. THE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing,...

...this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan. They might lament — for I am one Whom men love not, and...Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet. PB Shelley. LOCHINVAR. O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his...