Come Harriet! sweet is the hour, <br />Soft Zephyrs breathe gently around, <br />The anemone's night-boding flower, <br />Has sunk its pale head on the ground. <br /> <br />'Tis thus the world's keenness hath torn, <br />Some mild heart that expands to its blast, <br />'Tis thus that the wretched forlorn, <br />Sinks poor and neglected at last.-- <br /> <br />The world with its keenness and woe, <br />Has no charms or attraction for me, <br />Its unkindness with grief has laid low, <br />The heart which is faithful to thee. <br />The high trees that wave past the moon, <br />As I walk in their umbrage with you, <br />All declare I must part with you soon, <br />All bid you a tender adieu!-- <br /> <br />Then Harriet! dearest farewell, <br />You and I love, may ne’er meet again; <br />These woods and these meadows can tell <br />How soft and how sweet was the strain.-- <br /> <br />APRIL, 1810.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-come-harriet-sweet-is-the-hour/
