David Given Schwarm

All he had lov’d, and moulded into thought,

From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound,

Lamented Adonais. Morning sough

Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound,

Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground,

Dimm’d the aëreal eyes that kindle day;

Afar the melancholy thunder moan’d

Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay,

And the wild winds flew around, sobbing their dismay.