Shelley Sunday: ‘On A Faded Violet’

On A Faded Violet

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

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.


Image Source: Pinterest. Chewbacca at deviantART

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