Explore "The Past" by Percy Bysshe Shelley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Wilt thou forget the happy hours / Which we buried in Love's sweet bowers, / Heaping over their corpses cold / Blossoms and leaves, instead of mould? / Blossoms which were the joys that fell, / And leaves, the hopes that yet remain.
Forget the dead, the past? Oh, yet / There are ghosts that may take revenge for it, / Memories that make the heart a tomb, / Regrets which glide through the spirit's gloom, / And with ghastly whispers tell / That joy, once lost, is pain.