The Question. I DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender blue bells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cow-bind, and the moonlight-coloured May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, With moonlight beams of their own watery light; Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way SHELLEY To Henry Wriothesly, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON. HE who hath never warred with misery, And only men show their abilities, The world had never taken so full note Of what thou art, hadst thou not been undone; And only thy affliction hath begot More fame, than thy best fortunes could have done : The greatest works of admiration; Mutius the fire, the tortures Regulus, Not to be unhappy is unhappiness, And men are better showed what is amiss, By the expert finger of calamity, Than they can be with all that fortune brings, Who never shows them the true face of things. How could we know that thou couldst have endured With a reposed cheer, wrong and disgrace; And with a heart and countenance assured, Have looked stern death and horror in the face! How should we know thy soul had been secured, Hadst thou not stood to show us what thou wert, It is not but the tempest that doth show He that endures for what his conscience knows The more he endures, the more his glory grows; Only the best composed and worthiest hearts, Rejoice in May. WHEN May is in his prime, Then may each heart rejoice; When May bedecks each branch with green, DANIEL. The lively sap creeps up Into the blooming thorn: The flowers, which cold in prison kept, All Nature's imps triumph May makes the cheerful hue, May breeds and brings new blood, May marcheth throughout every limb, May makes the merry mood. May pricketh gentle hearts Their warbling notes to tune. Thus things are strangely wrought, All ye that live on earth, And have your May at will, Use May, while that you may, |