Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, <br />Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even: <br />Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, <br />And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven. <br /> <br />Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away! <br />Tempt not with one last tear thy friend’s ungentle mood: <br />Thy lover’s eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay: <br />Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude. <br /> <br />Away, away! to thy sad and silent home; <br />Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; <br />Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come, <br />And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth. <br /> <br />The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head: <br />The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet: <br />But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead, <br />Ere midnight’s frown and morning’s smile, ere thou and peace may meet. <br /> <br />The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose, <br />For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep: <br />Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows; <br />Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its appointed sleep. <br /> <br />Thou in the grave shalt rest—yet till the phantoms flee <br />Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile, <br />Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings are not free <br />From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stanzas-april-1814/
