4. 
As dew beneath the wind of morning,
As the sea which whirlwinds waken, 20
As the birds at thunder’s warning,
As aught mute yet deeply shaken,
As one who feels an unseen spirit
Is my heart when thine is near it.

***

TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.  The fragment included in the Harvard manuscript book.]

(With what truth may I say—­
Roma!  Roma!  Roma! 
Non e piu come era prima!)

1. 
My lost William, thou in whom
Some bright spirit lived, and did
That decaying robe consume
Which its lustre faintly hid,—­
Here its ashes find a tomb, 5
But beneath this pyramid
Thou art not—­if a thing divine
Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine
Is thy mother’s grief and mine.

2. 
Where art thou, my gentle child? 10
Let me think thy spirit feeds,
With its life intense and mild,
The love of living leaves and weeds
Among these tombs and ruins wild;—­
Let me think that through low seeds 15
Of sweet flowers and sunny grass
Into their hues and scents may pass
A portion—­

NOTE: 

Motto 1 may I Harvard manuscript; I may 1824. 12 With Harvard manuscript, Mrs. Shelley, 1847; Within 1824, 1839. 16 Of sweet Harvard manuscript; Of the sweet 1824, 1839.

***

TO WILLIAM SHELLEY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.]

Thy little footsteps on the sands
Of a remote and lonely shore;
The twinkling of thine infant hands,
Where now the worm will feed no more;
Thy mingled look of love and glee 5
When we returned to gaze on thee—­

***

TO MARY SHELLEY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.]

My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone,
And left me in this dreary world alone? 
Thy form is here indeed—­a lovely one—­
But thou art fled, gone down the dreary road,
That leads to Sorrow’s most obscure abode; 5
Thou sittest on the hearth of pale despair,
Where
For thine own sake I cannot follow thee.

***

TO MARY SHELLEY.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 2nd edition.]

The world is dreary,
And I am weary
Of wandering on without thee, Mary;
A joy was erewhile
In thy voice and thy smile, 5
And ’tis gone, when I should be gone too, Mary.