Shelley

4 0 00

Shelley

Knight-errant of the Never-ending Quest,

And Minstrel of the Unfulfilled Desire;

For ever tuning thy frail earthly lyre

To some unearthly music, and possessed

With painful passionate longing to invest

The golden dream of Love’s immortal fire

With mortal robes of beautiful attire,

And fold perfection to thy throbbing breast!

What wonder, Shelley, that the restless wave

Should claim thee and the leaping flame consume

Thy drifted form on Viareggio’s beach?

These were thine elements⁠—thy fitting grave.

But still thy soul rides on with fiery plume,

Thy wild song rings in ocean’s yearning speech!