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Lyric Poem · Nature

To Constantia

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The rose that drinks the fountain dew

In the pleasant air of noon,

Grows pale and blue with altered hue —

In the gaze of the nightly moon;

For the planet of frost, so cold and bright,

Makes it wan with her borrowed light.

Such is my heart — roses are fair,

And that at best a withered blossom;

But thy false care did idly wear

Its withered leaves in a faithless bosom;

And fed with love, like air and dew,

Its growth —

This poem is in the public domain.

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