SHELLEY'S VISION

Wandering late by morning seas

When my heart with pain was low —

Hate the censor pelted me —

Deject I saw my shadow go.

In elf-caprice of bitter tone

I too would pelt the pelted one:

At my shadow I cast a stone.

When lo, upon that sun-lit ground

I saw the quivering phantom take

The likeness of St. Stephen crowned:

Then did self-reverence awake.