To Mary Shelley
My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone,
And left me in this dreary world alone?
Thy form is here indeed,--a lovely one--
But thou art fled, gone down the dreary road,
That leads to Sorrow's most obscure abode;
Thou sittest on the hearth of pale despair,
Where
For thine own sake I cannot follow thee.
And left me in this dreary world alone?
Thy form is here indeed,--a lovely one--
But thou art fled, gone down the dreary road,
That leads to Sorrow's most obscure abode;
Thou sittest on the hearth of pale despair,
Where
For thine own sake I cannot follow thee.
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