Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
A LamentPercy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822)
O
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before;
When will return the glory of your prime?
No more—Oh, never more!
A joy has taken flight;
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
No more—Oh, never more!