I
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of To Edward Williams
The serpent is shut out from Paradise.
The wounded deer must seek the herb no more
In which its heart-cure lies:
The widowed dove must cease to haunt a bower
Like that from which its mate with feigned sighs
Fled in the April horn.
I too must seldom seek again
Near happy friends a mitigated pain.