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DIRGE FOR THE YEAR. - Percy Bysshe Shelley, Posthumous Poems [1824]

Edition used:

Posthumous Poems (London: John and Henry L. Hunt, 1824).

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DIRGE FOR THE YEAR.

    • Orphan hours, the year is dead,
    • Come and sigh, come and weep!
    • Merry hours, smile instead,
    • For the year is but asleep.
    • See, it smiles as it is sleeping,
    • Mocking your untimely weeping.
    • As an earthquake rocks a corse
    • In its coffin in the clay,
    • So White Winter, that rough nurse,
    • Rocks the death-cold year to-day;
    • Solemn hours! wait aloud
    • For your mother in her shroud.
    • As the wild air stirs and sways
    • The tree-swung cradle of a child,
    • So the breath of these rude days
    • Rocks the year:—be calm and mild,
    • Trembling hours, she will arise
    • With new love within her eyes.
    • January grey is here,
    • Like a sexton by her grave;
    • February bears the bier,
    • March with grief doth howl and rave
    • And April weeps—but, O, ye hours,
    • Follow with May’s fairest flowers.