Saturday Rave: A Lament by Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Shelley caused a lot of grief in his time, particularly to some young, impressionable girls and their families.

He also wrote some magnificent poetry.

I don't think this, below, is magnificent poetry, but if the metre and language don't do anything much for me, if there's no ravishing turn of phrase or cloud-dispelling use of metaphor, well, at least I can read it and think: well, serves you right!

O World! O Life! O Time!
On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before,
When will return the glory of your prime?
No more - Oh, never more!

Out of the day and night
A joy had taken flight:
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
No more - Oh, never more!

**

Well, diddums, quite frankly.

Word To Use Today: delight. This word comes from the Old French deleitier, to please, from the Latin de- away from, and lacere, to entice.