"To _______" by Percy Bysshe Shelley
| To ______ One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what men call love; But will thou accept not the worship the heart lifts above, And the Heaven's reject not: The desire of the moth for the star; Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow. Percy Bysshe Shelley. Born in Field Place, Eng. 1798 Link to official poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/45145 Transcription and essays on "To _____" written by Caroline Sutphin | Information About This Poem Biography of Percy Bysshe Shelley Description of the Poem's Formal Elements Explication of This Poem |
