Percy Bysshe Shelley
To Wordsworth (1816)


Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know


That things depart which never may return:


Childhood and youth, friendship and loveís first glow,


Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.


These common woes I feel. One loss is mine


Which thou too feelíst, yet I alone deplore.


Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine


On some frail bark in winterís midnight roar:


Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood


Above the blind and battling multitude:


In honoured poverty thy voice did weave


Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,--


Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,


Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.