Poem by Louise Imogen Guiney

A Last Word on Shelley

Each great inrolling wave, a league of sound,
All night, all day, the hostile crags confound
To merest snow and smoke. The crags remain.

Smile at the storm for our safe poet’s sake!
Not ever this ordainèd world shall break
That mounting, foolish, foam-bright heart again.

1. Of Joan’s Youth
2. When on the Marge of Evening
3. The Old Dial of Corpus
4. In a Perpendicular Church
5. A Talisman

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