Verse > Anthologies > James and Mary Ford, eds. > Every Day in the Year
James and Mary Ford, eds.  Every Day in the Year.  1902.
December 30
On His Marriage to Mary Godwin
By Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822)
December 30, 1816

*        *        *        *        *
UPON my heart thy accents sweet
  Of peace and pity fell like dew
On flowers half dead; thy lips did meet
  Mine tremblingly: thy dark eyes threw
Their soft persuasion on my brain,        5
Charming away the dream of pain.
We are not happy, sweet! our state
  Is strange, and full of doubt and fear;
More need of words that ills abate;—
  Reserve or censure come not near        10
Our sacred friendship, lest there be
No solace left for thee and me.
Gentle and good and mild thou art:
  Nor can I live if thou appear
Aught but thyself, or turn thine heart        15
  Away from me, or stoop to wear
The mask of scorn, although it be
To hide the love thou feel’st for me.

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