The odor from the flower is gone
Which like thy kisses breathed on me;
The color from the flower is flown
Which glowed of thee and only thee!
A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form,
It lies on my abandoned breast;
And mocks the heart, which yet is warm,
With cold and silent rest.
I weep--my tears revive it not;
I sigh--it breathes no more on me:
Its mute and uncomplaining lot
Is such as mine should be.

or Comment

Written by Jonathan on 2008-06-07 23:17:10 IP:

I believe this reflects Shelley when he lost interest in his ex-wife Harriet Westbrook, which cause her to commit suicide ( a key factor with other turn of events).

Written by Lily on 2008-04-14 16:42:28 IP:

This really touched me, I love Shelley. Poetry is so beautiful when you understand it!

Written by brooke on 2007-11-04 12:53:03 IP:

i absolutely LOVE this!

Written by anonymous on 2007-04-27 12:41:35 IP:

amazing
Written by Guest on 2006-09-17 16:52:48 IP:

this poem really touched me..i really like ur work...your really good.

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