I. <br />Maiden, quench the glare of sorrow <br />Struggling in thine haggard eye: <br />Firmness dare to borrow <br />From the wreck of destiny; <br />For the ray morn’s bloom revealing <br />Can never boast so bright an hue <br />As that which mocks concealing, <br />And sheds its loveliest light on you. <br /> <br />II. <br />Yet is the tie departed <br />Which bound thy lovely soul to bliss? <br />Has it left thee broken-hearted <br />In a world so cold as this? <br />Yet, though, fainting fair one, <br />Sorrow’s self thy cup has given, <br />Dream thou’lt meet thy dear one, <br />Never more to part, in Heaven. <br /> <br />III. <br />Existence would I barter <br />For a dream so dear as thine, <br />And smile to die a martyr <br />On affection's bloodless shrine. <br />Nor would I change for pleasure <br />That withered hand and ashy cheek, <br />If my heart enshrined a treasure <br />Such as forces thine to break.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mary-who-died-in-this-opinion/
