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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478093" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Adonais</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I weep for Adonais -he is dead!<br>O, weep for Adonais! though our tears<br>Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!<br>And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years<br>To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers,<br>And teach them thine own sorrow, say: "With me<br>Died Adonais; till the Future dares<br>Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be<br>An echo and a light unto eternity!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay,<br>When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies<br>In darkness? where was lorn Urania<br>When Adonais died? With veiled eyes,<br>Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise<br>She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath,<br>Rekindled all the fading melodies<br>With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath,<br>He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, weep for Adonais -he is dead!<br>Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep!<br>Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed<br>Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep<br>Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep;<br>For he is gone, where all things wise and fair<br>Descend; -oh, dream not that the amorous Deep<br>Will yet restore him to the vital air;<br>Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Most musical of mourners, weep again!<br>Lament anew, Urania! -He died,<br>Who was the Sire of an immortal strain,<br>Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride,<br>The priest, the slave, and the liberticide<br>Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite<br>Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified,<br>Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite<br>Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Most musical of mourners, weep anew!<br>Not all to that bright station dared to climb;<br>And happier they their happiness who knew,<br>Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time<br>In which suns perished; others more sublime,<br>Struck by the envious wrath of man or god,<br>Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime;<br>And some yet live, treading the thorny road<br>Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perished - <br>The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew,<br>Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished,<br>And fed with true-love tears, instead of dew;<br>Most musical of mourners, weep anew!<br>Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last,<br>The bloom, whose petals nipped before they blew<br>Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste;<br>The broken lily lies -the storm is overpast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To that high Capital, where kingly Death<br>Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay,<br>He came; and bought, with price of purest breath,<br>A grave among the eternal. -Come away!<br>Haste, while the vault of blue Italian day<br>Is yet his fitting charnel-roof! while still<br>He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay;<br>Awake him not! surely he takes his fill<br>Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He will awake no more, oh, never more! - <br>Within the twilight chamber spreads apace<br>The shadow of white Death, and at the door<br>Invisible Corruption waits to trace<br>His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place;<br>The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe<br>Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface<br>So fair a prey, till darkness, and the law<br>Of change, shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, weep for Adonais! -The quick Dreams,<br>The passion-winged Ministers of thought,<br>Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams<br>Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught<br>The love which was its music, wander not, - <br>Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain,<br>But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn their lot<br>Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain,<br>They ne'er will gather strength, or find a home again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And one with trembling hands clasps his cold head,<br>And fans him with her moonlight wings, and cries,<br>"Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead;<br>See, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes,<br>Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies<br>A tear some Dream has loosened from his brain."<br>Lost Angel of a ruined Paradise!<br>She knew not 'twas her own; as with no stain<br>She faded, like a cloud which had outwept its rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One from a lucid urn of starry dew<br>Washed his light limbs as if embalming them;<br>Another clipped her profuse locks, and threw<br>The wreath upon him, like an anadem,<br>Which frozen tears instead of pearls begem;<br>Another in her wilful grief would break<br>Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem<br>A greater loss with one which was more weak;<br>And dull the barbed fire against his frozen cheek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Another Splendour on his mouth alit,<br>That mouth, whence it was wont to draw the breath<br>Which gave it strength to pierce the guarded wit,<br>And pass into the panting heart beneath<br>With lightning and with music: the damp death<br>Quenched its caress upon his icy lips;<br>And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath<br>Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips,<br>It flushed through his pale limbs, and passed to its eclipse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And others came... Desires and Adorations,<br>Winged Persuasions and veiled Destinies,<br>Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations<br>Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies;<br>And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs,<br>And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam<br>Of her own dying smile instead of eyes,<br>Came in slow pomp; -the moving pomp might seem<br>Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All he had loved, and moulded into thought,<br>From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound,<br>Lamented Adonais. Morning sought<br>Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound,<br>Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground,<br>Dimmed the aereal eyes that kindle day;<br>Afar the melancholy thunder moaned,<br>Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay,<br>And the wild Winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,<br>And feeds her grief with his remembered lay,<br>And will no more reply to winds or fountains,<br>Or amorous birds perched on the young green spray,<br>Or herdsman's horn, or bell at closing day;<br>Since she can mimic not his lips, more dear<br>Than those for whose disdain she pined away<br>Into a shadow of all sounds: -a drear<br>Murmur, between their songs, is all the woodmen hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grief made the young Spring wild, and she threw down<br>Her kindling buds, as if she Autumn were,<br>Or they dead leaves; since her delight is flown,<br>For whom should she have waked the sullen year?<br>To Phoebus was not Hyacinth so dear<br>Nor to himself Narcissus, as to both<br>Thou, Adonais: wan they stand and sere<br>Amid the faint companions of their youth,<br>With dew all turned to tears; odour, to sighing ruth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy spirit's sister, the lorn nightingale<br>Mourns not her mate with such melodious pain;<br>Not so the eagle, who like thee could scale<br>Heaven, and could nourish in the sun's domain<br>Her mighty youth with morning, doth complain,<br>Soaring and screaming round her empty nest,<br>As Albion wails for thee: the curse of Cain<br>Light on his head who pierced thy innocent breast,<br>And scared the angel soul that was its earthly guest!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone,<br>But grief returns with the revolving year;<br>The airs and streams renew their joyous tone;<br>The ants, the bees, the swallows reappear;<br>Fresh leaves and flowers deck the dead Season's bier;<br>The amorous birds now pair in every brake,<br>And build their mossy homes in field and brere;<br>And the green lizard, and the golden snake,<br>Like unimprisoned flames, out of their trance awake.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean<br>A quickening life from the Earth's heart has burst<br>As it has ever done, with change and motion,<br>From the great morning of the world when first<br>God dawned on Chaos; in its stream immersed,<br>The lamps of Heaven flash with a softer light;<br>All baser things pant with life's sacred thirst;<br>Diffuse themselves; and spend in love's delight<br>The beauty and the joy of their renewed might.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The leprous corpse, touched by this spirit tender,<br>Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath;<br>Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour<br>Is changed to fragrance, they illumine death<br>And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath;<br>Nought we know, dies. Shall that alone which knows<br>Be as a sword consumed before the sheath<br>By sightless lightning? -the intense atom glows<br>A moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! that all we loved of him should be,<br>But for our grief, as if it had not been,<br>And grief itself be mortal! Woe is me!<br>Whence are we, and why are we? of what scene<br>The actors or spectators? Great and mean<br>Meet massed in death, who lends what life must borrow.<br>As long as skies are blue, and fields are green,<br>Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow,<br>Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He will awake no more, oh, never more!<br>"Wake thou," cried Misery, "childless Mother, rise<br>Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart's core,<br>A wound more fierce than his with tears and sighs."<br>And all the Dreams that watched Urania's eyes,<br>And all the Echoes whom their sister's song<br>Had held in holy silence, cried: "Arise!"<br>Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung,<br>From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendour sprung.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She rose like an autumnal Night, that springs<br>Our of the East, and follows wild and drear<br>The golden Day, which, on eternal wings,<br>Even as a ghost abandoning a bier,<br>Had left the Earth a corpse. Sorrow and fear<br>So struck, so roused, so rapt Urania;<br>So saddened round her like an atmosphere<br>Of stormy mist; so swept her on her way<br>Even to the mournful place where Adonais lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our of her secret Paradise she sped,<br>Through camps and cities rough with stone, and steel,<br>And human hearts, which to her aery tread<br>Yielding not, wounded the invisible<br>Palms of her tender feet where'er they fell:<br>And barbed tongues, and thoughts more sharp than they,<br>Rent the soft Form they never could repel,<br>Whose sacred blood, like the young tears of May,<br>Paved with eternal flowers that undeserving way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the death-chamber for a moment Death,<br>Shamed by the presence of that living Might,<br>Blushed to annihilation, and the breath<br>Revisited those lips, and Life's pale light<br>Flashed through those limbs, so late her dear delight.<br>"Leave me not wild and drear and comfortless,<br>As silent lightning leaves the starless night!<br>Leave me not!" cried Urania: her distress<br>Roused Death: Death rose and smiled, and met her vain caress.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"'Stay yet awhile! speak to me once again;<br>Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may live;<br>And in my heartless breast and burning brain<br>That word, that kiss, shall all thoughts else survive,<br>With food of saddest memory kept alive,<br>Now thou art dead, as if it were a part<br>Of thee, my Adonais! I would give<br>All that I am to be as thou now art!<br>But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"O gentle child, beautiful as thou wert,<br>Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men<br>Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart<br>Dare the unpastured dragon in his den?<br>Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then<br>Wisdom the mirrored shield, or scorn the spear?<br>Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when<br>Thy spirit should have filled its crescent sphere,<br>The monsters of life's waste had fled from thee like deer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The herded wolves, bold only to pursue;<br>The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead;<br>The vultures to the conqueror's banner true<br>Who feed where Desolation first has fed,<br>And whose wings rain contagion; -how they fled,<br>When, like Apollo, from his golden bow<br>The Pythian of the age one arrow sped<br>And smiled! -The spoilers tempt no second blow,<br>They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The sun comes forth, and many reptiles spawn;<br>He sets, and each ephemeral insect then<br>Is gathered into death without a dawn,<br>And the immortal stars awake again;<br>So is it in the world of living men:<br>A godlike mind soars forth, in its delight<br>Making earth bare and veiling heaven, and when<br>It sinks, the swarms that dimmed or shared its light<br>Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit's awful night."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus ceased she: and the mountain shepherds came,<br>Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent;<br>The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame<br>Over his living head like Heaven is bent,<br>An early but enduring monument,<br>Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song<br>In sorrow; from her wilds Irene sent<br>The sweetest lyrist of her saddest wrong,<br>And Love taught Grief to fall like music from his tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Midst others of less note, came one frail Form,<br>A phantom among men; companionless<br>As the last cloud of an expiring storm<br>Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess,<br>Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness,<br>Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray<br>With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness,<br>And his own thoughts, along that rugged way,<br>Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A pardlike Spirit beautiful and swift - <br>A Love in desolation masked; -a Power<br>Girt round with weakness; -it can scarce uplift<br>The weight of the superincumbent hour;<br>It is a dying lamp, a falling shower,<br>A breaking billow; -even whilst we speak<br>Is it not broken? On the withering flower<br>The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek<br>The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His head was bound with pansies overblown,<br>And faded violets, white, and pied, and blue;<br>And a light spear topped with a cypress cone,<br>Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew<br>Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew,<br>Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart<br>Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew<br>He came the last, neglected and apart;<br>A herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter's dart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All stood aloof, and at his partial moan<br>Smiled through their tears; well knew that gentle band<br>Who in another's fate now wept his own,<br>As in the accents of an unknown land<br>He sung new sorrow; sad Urania scanned<br>The Stranger's mien, and murmured: "Who art thou?"<br>He answered not, but with a sudden hand<br>Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow,<br>Which was like Cain's or Christ's -oh! that it should be so!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What softer voice is hushed over the dead?<br>Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown?<br>What form leans sadly o'er the white death-bed,<br>In mockery of monumental stone,<br>The heavy heart heaving without a moan?<br>If it be He, who, gentlest of the wise,<br>Taught, soothed, loved, honoured the departed one,<br>Let me not vex, with inharmonious sighs,<br>The silence of that heart's accepted sacrifice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our Adonais has drunk poison -oh!<br>What deaf and viperous murderer could crown<br>Life's early cup with such a draught of woe?<br>The nameless worm would now itself disown:<br>It felt, yet could escape, the magic tone<br>Whose prelude held all envy, hate, and wrong,<br>But what was howling in one breast alone,<br>Silent with expectation of the song,<br>Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame!<br>Live! fear no heavier chastisement from me,<br>Thou noteless blot on a remembered name!<br>But be thyself, and know thyself to be!<br>And ever at thy season be thou free<br>To spill the venom when thy fangs o'erflow:<br>Remorse and Self-contempt shall cling to thee;<br>Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret brow,<br>And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt -as now.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor let us weep that our delight is fled<br>Far from these carrion kites that scream below;<br>He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead;<br>Thou canst not soar where he is sitting now - <br>Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow<br>Back to the burning fountain whence it came,<br>A portion of the Eternal, which must glow<br>Through time and change, unquenchably the same,<br>Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep - <br>He hath awakened from the dream of life - <br>'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep<br>With phantoms an unprofitable strife,<br>And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife<br>Invulnerable nothings. -We decay<br>Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief<br>Convulse us and consume us day by day,<br>And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He has outsoared the shadow of our night;<br>Envy and calumny and hate and pain,<br>And that unrest which men miscall delight,<br>Can touch him not and torture not again;<br>From the contagion of the world's slow stain<br>He is secure, and now can never mourn<br>A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain;<br>Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn,<br>With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He lives, he wakes -'tis Death is dead, not he;<br>Mourn not for Adonais. -Thou young Dawn,<br>Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee<br>The spirit thou lamentest is not gone;<br>Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan!<br>Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains, and thou Air<br>Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown<br>O'er the abandoned Earth, now leave it bare<br>Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is made one with Nature: there is heard<br>His voice in all her music, from the moan<br>Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird;<br>He is a presence to be felt and known<br>In darkness and in light, from herb and stone,<br>Spreading itself where'er that Power may move<br>Which has withdrawn his being to its own;<br>Which wields the world with never-wearied love,<br>Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is a portion of the loveliness<br>Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear<br>His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress<br>Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there<br>All new successions to the forms they wear;<br>Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight<br>To its own likeness, as each mass may bear;<br>And bursting in its beauty and its might<br>From trees and beasts and men into the Heavens' light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The splendours of the firmament of time<br>May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not;<br>Like stars to their appointed height they climb,<br>And death is a low mist which cannot blot<br>The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought<br>Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair,<br>And love and life contend in it, for what<br>Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there<br>And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The inheritors of unfulfilled renown<br>Rose from their thrones, built beyond mortal thought,<br>Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton<br>Rose pale, -his solemn agony had not<br>Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he fought<br>And as he fell and as he lived and loved<br>Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot,<br>Arose; and Lucan, by his death approved:<br>Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reproved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And many more, whose names on Earth are dark,<br>But whose transmitted effluence cannot die<br>So long as fire outlives the parent spark,<br>Rose, robed in dazzling immortality.<br>"Thou art become as one of us," they cry,<br>"It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long<br>Swung blind in unascended majesty,<br>Silent alone amid an Heaven of Song.<br>Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper of our throng!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who mourns for Adonais? Oh, come forth,<br>Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright.<br>Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth;<br>As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light<br>Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might<br>Satiate the void circumference: then shrink<br>Even to a point within our day and night;<br>And keep thy heart light lest it make thee sink<br>When hope has kindled hope, and lured thee to the brink.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre,<br>Oh, not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought<br>That ages, empires, and religions there<br>Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought;<br>For such as he can lend, -they borrow not<br>Glory from those who made the world their prey;<br>And he is gathered to the kings of thought<br>Who waged contention with their time's decay,<br>And of the past are all that cannot pass away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go thou to Rome, -at once the Paradise,<br>The grave, the city, and the wilderness;<br>And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise,<br>And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress<br>The bones of Desolation's nakedness<br>Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead<br>Thy footsteps to a slope of green access<br>Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead<br>A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And grey walls moulder round, on which dull Time<br>Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand;<br>And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime,<br>Pavilioning the dust of him who planned<br>This refuge for his memory, doth stand<br>Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath,<br>A field is spread, on which a newer band<br>Have pitched in Heaven's smile their camp of death,<br>Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet<br>To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned<br>Its charge to each; and if the seal is set,<br>Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,<br>Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find<br>Thine own well full, if thou returnest home,<br>Of tears and gall. From the world's bitter wind<br>Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb.<br>What Adonais is, why fear we to become?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The One remains, the many change and pass;<br>Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;<br>Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,<br>Stains the white radiance of Eternity,<br>Until Death tramples it to fragments. -Die,<br>If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!<br>Follow where all is fled! -Rome's azure sky,<br>Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak<br>The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart?<br>Thy hopes are gone before: from all things here<br>They have departed; thou shouldst now depart!<br>A light is passed from the revolving year,<br>And man, and woman; and what still is dear<br>Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither.<br>The soft sky smiles, -the low wind whispers near:<br>'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither,<br>No more let Life divide what Death can join together.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That Light whose smile kindles the Universe,<br>That Beauty in which all things work and move,<br>That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse<br>Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love<br>Which through the web of being blindly wove<br>By man and beast and earth and air and sea,<br>Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of<br>The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me,<br>Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The breath whose might I have invoked in song<br>Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven<br>Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng<br>Whose sails were never to the tempest given;<br>The massy earth and sphered skies are riven!<br>I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar;<br>Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven,<br>The soul of Adonais, like a star,<br>Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Percy+Bysshe+Shelley">Percy Bysshe Shelley</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478093" data-title="Adonais de Percy Bysshe Shelley" data-description="I weep for Adonais -he is dead! O, weep for Adonais! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say: &..."></div> </div> </div>
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