invocation to misery

• ingiliz romantik akımından, şair percy bysshe shelley'nin etkileyici şiiri. ilk olarak 1832 yılında yayınlanmıştır.
  
  1.
  come, be happy!--sit near me,
  shadow-vested misery:
  coy, unwilling, silent bride,
  mourning in thy robe of pride,
  desolation--deified!
  
  2.
  come, be happy!--sit near me:
  sad as i may seem to thee,
  i am happier far than thou,
  lady, whose imperial brow
  is endiademed with woe.
  
  3.
  misery! we have known each other,
  like a sister and a brother
  living in the same lone home,
  many years--we must live some
  hours or ages yet to come.
  
  4.
  'tis an evil lot, and yet
  let us make the best of it;
  if love can live when pleasure dies,
  we two will love, till in our eyes
  this heart's hell seem paradise.
  
  5.
  come, be happy!--lie thee down
  on the fresh grass newly mown,
  where the grasshopper doth sing
  merrily--one joyous thing
  in a world of sorrowing!
  
  6.
  there our tent shall be the willow,
  and mine arm shall be thy pillow;
  sounds and odours, sorrowful
  because they once were sweet, shall lull
  us to slumber, deep and dull.
  
  7.
  ha! thy frozen pulses flutter
  with a love thou darest not utter.
  thou art murmuring--thou art weeping--
  is thine icy bosom leaping
  while my burning heart lies sleeping?
  
  8.
  kiss me;--oh! thy lips are cold:
  round my neck thine arms enfold--
  they are soft, but chill and dead;
  and thy tears upon my head
  burn like points of frozen lead.
  
  9.
  hasten to the bridal bed--
  underneath the grave 'tis spread:
  in darkness may our love be hid,
  oblivion be our coverlid--
  we may rest, and none forbid.
  
  10.
  clasp me till our hearts be grown
  like two shadows into one;
  till this dreadful transport may
  like a vapour fade away,
  in the sleep that lasts alway.
  
  11.
  we may dream, in that long sleep,
  that we are not those who weep;
  e'en as pleasure dreams of thee,
  life-deserting misery,
  thou mayst dream of her with me.
  
  12.
  let us laugh, and make our mirth,
  at the shadows of the earth,
  as dogs bay the moonlight clouds,
  which, like spectres wrapped in shrouds,
  pass o'er night in multitudes.
  
  13.
  all the wide world, beside us,
  show like multitudinous
  puppets passing from a scene;
  what but mockery can they mean,
  where i am--where thou hast been?