Identifier: withshelleyinitashelrich (find matches)
Title: With Shelley in Italy : being a selection of the poems and letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which have to do with his life in Italy from 1818 to 1822
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors: Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 1792-1822 McMahan, Anna Benneson
Subjects: Poetry of places -- Italy Italy -- Description and travel Poetry
Publisher: Chicago : McClurg
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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nd.As it floats through boundless day,Our world enkindles on its way —All this it knows, but will not tellTo those who cannot question wellThe spirit that inhabits it;It talks according to the witOf its companions; and no moreIs heard than has been felt before.By those who tempt it to betrayThese secrets of an elder day :But sweetly as its answers willFlatter hands of perfect skill.It keeps its highest, holiest toneFor our beloved Jane alone. 18 . ( 273 ) WITH SHELLEY IN ITALY TO JANE THE KEEN STARS WERE TWINKLING The keen stars were twinkling,And the fair moon was rising among them.Dear Jane!The guitar was tinkling,But the notes were not sweet till you sung themAgain. II As the moons soft splendourOer the faint cold starlight of heavenIs thrown,So your voice most tenderTo the strings without soul had then givenIts own. Ill The stars will awaken,Though the moon sleep a full hour later,To-night;No leaf will be shakenWhilst the dews of your melody scatterDelight. ( 274 ) IVTINERVA. In
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— See p. 282. THE YEAR 1822 IV Though the sound overpowers,Sing again, with your dear voice revealingA toneOf some worki far from ours.Where music and moonlight and feelingAre one. A DIEGE KouGH wind, that moanest loud Grief too sad for song;Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long;Sad storm, whose tears are vain. Bare woods, whose branches stain.Deep caves and dreary main, Wail, for the world^s wrong ! LINES WRITTEN IN THE BAY OF LERICI She left me at the silent timeWhen the moon had ceased to climbThe azure path of Heavens steep,And like an albatross asleep.Balanced on her wings of light.Hovered in the purple night,Ere she sought her ocean nestIn the chambers of the West.( 275 ) WITH SHELLEY IN ITALY She left me, and I stayed aloneThinking over every toneWhich, though silent to the ear,The enchanted heart could hear.Like notes which die when born, but stillHaunt the echoes of the hill;And feeling ever — oh, too much ! —The soft vibration of her touch.As if her ge

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