1.
When a lover clasps his fairest,
Then be our dread sport the rarest.
Their caresses were like the chaff
In the tempest, and be our laugh
His despair - her epitaph!
2.
When a mother clasps her child,
Watch till dusty Death has piled
His cold ashes on the clay;
She has loved it many a day -
She remains, - it fades away.
Fragment: 'when A Lover Clasps His Fairest'
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(1)
Poem topics: away, child, death, despair, mother, cold, laugh, watch, Valentine's Day, sport, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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