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    To Wordsworth

    by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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    Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know
    That things depart which never may return:
    Childhood and youth, friendship, and love's first glow,
    Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.
    These common woes I feel. One loss is mine
    Which thou too feel'st, yet I alone deplore.
    Thou wert as a lone star whose light did shine
    On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar:
    Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood
    Above the blind and battling multitude:
    In honoured poverty thy voice did weave
    Songs consecrate to truth and liberty.
    Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,
    Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.
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