Percy Bysshe Shelley ~ To Wordsworth my soul aches

Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know

That things depart which never may return:

Childhood and youth, friendship and love’s first glow

Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.

These common woes I feel.

One loss is mine

Which thou too feels, yet I alone deplore.

Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine On some frail bark in winter’s midnight roar:

Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood Above the blind and battling multitude:

In honoured poverty, thy voice did weave

Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,-

Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,

Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.