English Poetry II: From Collins to Fitzgerald.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
516. The Flight of Love
W
The light in the dust lies dead—
When the cloud is scatter’d,
The rainbow’s glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remember’d not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart’s echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute—
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruin’d cell,
That ring the dead seaman’s knell.
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possesst.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.