



Ghe Opening Pewr. 
Shelley 
Qe hours, the year is dead, 
Come and sigh, come and weep! 
Merry hours, smile instead, 
For the year is but asleep. 
See, it smiles as it is sleeping, 
Mocking your untimely weeping. 
As an earthquake rocks a corse 
In its coffin in the clay, 
So white Winter, that rough nurse, 
Rocks the dead-cold year to-day ; 
Solemn hours! wail aloud 
For your mother in her shroud. 
As the wild air stirs and sways 
The tree-swung cradle of a child, 
So the breath of these rude days 
Rocks the year:—be calm and mild, 
Trembling hours; she will arise 
With new love within her eyes. 

