And with curses as wild As e'er clung to child, He devotes to the blast, The best, loveliest and last Of his name! _60 NOTES: _28 And though]Though editions 1839. _57 clung]cling editions 1839. *** TO --. [Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824.] Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory-- Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, _5 Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on. *** SONG. [Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a transcript in the Harvard manuscript book.] 1. Rarely, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day _5 'Tis since thou art fled away. 2. How shall ever one like me Win thee back again? With the joyous and the free Thou wilt scoff at pain. _10 Spirit false! thou hast forgot All but those who need thee not. 3. As a lizard with the shade Of a trembling leaf, Thou with sorrow art dismayed; _15 Even the sighs of grief Reproach thee, that thou art not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear. 4. Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure; _20 Thou wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for pleasure; Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. 5. I love all that thou lovest, _25 Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed, And the starry night; Autumn evening, and the morn When the golden mists are born. _30 6. I love snow, and all the forms Of the radiant frost; I love waves, and winds, and storms, Everything almost Which is Nature's, and may be _35 Untainted by man's misery. 7. I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good Between thee and me _40 What difference? but thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them less. 8. I love Love--though he has wings, And like light can flee, But above all other things, _45 Spirit, I love thee-- Thou art love and life! Oh, come, Make once more my heart thy home. *** MUTABILITY. [Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Posthumous Poems", 1824. There is a fair draft amongst the Boscombe manuscripts.] 1. The flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world's delight? _5 Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright.