Explore "Lines to a Reviewer" by Percy Bysshe Shelley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Alas, good friend, what profit can you see / In hating such a hateless thing as me? / There is no sport in hate where all the rage / Is on one side: in vain would you assuage / Your frowns upon an unresisting smile, / In which not even contempt lurks to beguile / Your heart, by some faint sympathy of hate. / Oh, conquer what you cannot satiate! / For to your passion I am far more coy / Than ever yet was coldest maid or boy / In winter noon. Of your antipathy / If I am the Narcissus, you are free / To pine into a sound with hating me.