Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
P. B. Shelley
CCXXVII. Stanzas Written in Dejection near Naples
    THE sun is warm, the sky is clear, 
    The waves are dancing fast and bright, 
    Blue isles and snowy mountains wear 
    The purple noon's transparent might: 
    The breath of the moist earth is light         5
    Around its unexpanded buds; 
    Like many a voice of one delight— 
    The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods'— 
The city's voice itself is soft like solitude's. 
    I see the deep's untrampled floor  10
    With green and purple seaweeds strown; 
    I see the waves upon the shore 
    Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown. 
    I sit upon the sands alone; 
    The lightning of the noontide ocean  15
    Is flashing round me, and a tone 
    Arises from its measured motion— 
How sweet, did any heart now share in my emotion! 
    Alas! I have nor hope nor health, 
    Nor peace within nor calm around;  20
    Nor that content, surpassing wealth, 
    The sage in meditation found, 
    And walk'd with inward glory crown'd; 
    Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. 
    Others I see whom these surround—  25
    Smiling they live, and call life pleasure: 
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. 
    Yet now despair itself is mild, 
    Even as the winds and waters are; 
    I could lie down like a tired child,  30
    And weep away the life of care 
    Which I have borne, and yet must bear,— 
    Till death like sleep might steal on me, 
    And I might feel in the warm air 
    My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea  35
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. 

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