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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. Liberty
  2. Letter To Maria Gisborne
  3. To Mary
  4. To The Republicans Of North America
  5. Homer's Hymn to Minerva


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Ralph Emerson The Past ("The debt is paid")
  • 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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