Shelley

Life seems short to men of science,

ask be the dove black or white.

Disregarding clay desires,

oh, such hollow things they write.

Wise Sapho carry to their sails

that they travel may once more.

Heeding the course of your song

moor heart’s anchor by her shore.

At rest their life is lengthened,

ask to take fair nature’s hand.

Together they sail onward

where joy two is to be had.