Percy Bysshe Shelley

There is a snake in thy smile, my dear,
And bitter poison within thy tear.

There is a snake in thy smile, my dear,
And bitter poison within thy tear.

January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
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January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps--but, O ye hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.

Ay, many flowering islands lie
In the waters of wide Agony.

Ay, many flowering islands lie
In the waters of wide Agony.

We look before and after,
And pine for what is not,
Our sincerest laughter
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We look before and after,
And pine for what is not,
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught:
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

For there are deeds
Which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.

For there are deeds
Which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.