To Mary

O Mary dear, that you were here
With your brown eyes bright and clear,
And your sweet voice, like a bird
Singing love to its lone mate
In the ivy bower disconsolate ;
Voice the sweetest ever heard !
And your brow more ....
Than the sky
Of this azure Italy.
Mary dear, come to me soon,
I am not well whilst thou art far ;
As sunset to the sheperèd moon,
As twilight to the western star,
Thou, belovèd, art to me.
O Mary dear, that you were here ;
The Castle echo whispers 'Here !'

Percy Bysshe SHELLEY, Posthumous Poems, 1824.