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,

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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

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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

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Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,--

 

Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,

 

Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.