ANOTHER FRAGMENT ( A )

By Percy Bysshe Shelley

Yes, often when the eyes are cold and dry,

And the lips calm, the Spirit weeps within

Tears bitterer than the blood of agony

Trembling in drops on the discoloured skin

Of those who love their kind and therefore perish

In ghastly torture — a sweet medicine

Of peace and sleep are tears, and quietly

Them soothe from whose uplifted eyes they fall

But...