IV
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of To Edward Williams
When I return to my cold home, you ask
Why I am not as I have ever been.
You spoil me for the task
Of acting a forced part in life's dull scene,—
Of wearing on my brow the idle mask
Of author, great or mean,
In the world's carnival. I sought
Peace thus, and but in you I found it not.