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Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Past

Wilt thou forget the happy hours
Which we buried in Love's sweet bowers,
Heaping over their corpses cold
Blossoms and leaves, instead of mould?
Blossoms which were the joys that fell,
And leaves, the hopes that yet remain.

Forget the dead, the past? Oh, yet
There are ghosts that may take revenge for it,
Memories that make the heart a tomb,
Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom,
And with ghastly whispers tell
That joy, once lost, is pain.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Percy Bysshe Shelley's other poems:
  1. From the Arabic, an Imitation
  2. To Mary
  3. I Would Not Be A King
  4. Wine Of The Fairies
  5. The Spectral Horseman

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Ralph Emerson The Past ("The debt is paid")
  • William Bryant The Past ("Thou unrelenting Past!")
  • Henry Timrod The Past ("To-dayТs most trivial act may hold the seed")
  • Ella Wilcox The Past ("Fling my past behind me, like a robe")

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